


Lessons in Heroics

by kronette



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Bondage, Dildos, Dominance, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Flogging, Humiliation, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Physical Abuse, Rape, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Coercion, Spanking, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:19:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 56,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1436482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thrown into the unbelievable, Rimmer must do the unthinkable. Set directly after "Stoke Me A Clipper."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Failed Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Alix Sinclair for being my sounding board, the other half of my filthy mind, my good karma generator at cons and my hetero life-mate. :)

After the rush of adrenaline and goodbyes, sitting alone in the cockpit of a ship he had no idea how to fly, panic began to envelop Arnold Rimmer – the newly christened Ace.

He was not a quick learner, nor was he particularly adapt at picking up things with repeated explanations. He had no practical experience in being a hero, in rushing headlong into danger, in conjuring strategies and rescue scenarios, or for that matter, wanting to. 

He still wasn't sure he wanted to, but he was stranded in another dimension. He had no options left. He could continue to whine and deny that he'd learned anything over the past few days, thereby ensuring that a billion years from now, he would still be in the same smegging part of space, in the same smegging stupid outfit, in the same stupid smegging hair, still scared smegless. 

Or he could _do_ something. 

His long fingers wrapped around the handles on the yoke, barely able to hang on through his hands' shaking. "You win," he grumbled to the ship, absolutely convinced he could hear her smug laughter as the dimension jump drive roared to life. 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Covered in filth and panting for air, Rimmer stumbled into the pilot's chair and started pressing buttons, forgetting which one closed the hatch. Before he ejected himself – again – the hatch closed and he found the engine start switch. "Computer, get me out of here," he demanded, wincing at the pathetic whine in his voice. 

"But you haven't –" the computer began to chastise him, when he banged his fist on the console, silencing her. 

"They can smegging help themselves," he snarled, grabbing the yoke and pulling up hard, taking off from the small planetoid. "Look, sneaking in for a rescue against a blundering GELF tribe is one thing. Those soldiers had _guns_ and they were _shooting at me_ and there was an _entire army_ of them!" 

Ace had made it sound glamorous to rush in and save the damsel in distress, but Rimmer thought he had been exaggerating about the heroics. No one person could do what Ace had said he'd done – motorcycle chases and skydiving and mounted guards and dozens of people shooting at you while you laughed. Rimmer didn't like people shooting at him. He didn't like the idea of dying permanently. He didn't want to end up floating in a tiny box around an insignificant planet, forgotten like the other millions of Rimmers. 

He shook his head as the ship broke through the atmosphere. How had that convinced him? Perhaps it had been the euphoria after taking out the AR sprite. He'd been riding a high that he'd only felt three other times in his life and it was powerful. Looking back, he should have turned tail and ran away from all the former Ace Rimmers. Who sees a graveyard filled with millions of dead…yous…and thinks _yeah, that's what I want my future to be_? 

"Smeg, smeg, smeg," he groused as he engaged the dimension jump drive. 

=-=-=-=-=-=

He was so tired of trying and failing. Of trying and being so close. Even on his best days, when he saved the true king from being beheaded or managed not to get the charge killed that he was sent to rescue, he didn't feel like a hero. 

No matter how brave he appeared on the outside, no matter how smooth his voice or perfectly he flipped his hair, inside he was still a sniveling coward waiting for the kill shot. 

He would still retch in the bushes after returning the rescuee and accepting the gratitude of the family. His hands would still tremble and his heart would still race and his stomach would still lurch with thoughts of _next time_. Next time, he wouldn't be so lucky. Next time, he wouldn't duck in time. Next time, he would drop the gun. Next time, he would be too late. 

Next time, was _the_ next time. 

He had been fortunate not to jump to a dimension with a _Starbug_ crew, wanting to avoid any encounters with another Rimmer. Fortunate until now, as his ship settled after the jump with a familiar red ship looming in front of him. It had been four years since he'd last seen _Red Dwarf_ , Lister having forgotten where he parked it about a year before Rimmer had left. 

His heart gave a painful thump as his stinging eyes took in the majestic view. Even at half the length of his _Red Dwarf_ and asteroids embedded in different areas of the hull, the namesake of the ship he'd called home for 21 years had never looked better. 

A crackle from the transmitter brought him out of his nostalgia. "Help." 

The voice was indistinguishable through the static, so much that Rimmer couldn't tell if it was a man or woman. "Hello there," he answered cautiously. "The name's Ace Rimmer. What's your handle?" 

The voice rasped, "Help us. We're-"

Another voice interrupted, growing louder as the person apparently neared the microphone. "Get away from there!" the man shouted and then the connection went dead, but not before Rimmer heard the sound of flesh meeting flesh and a cry of pain. 

Jaw flexing in irritation that someone dared overrun _his_ ship, Rimmer called up the codes used to open the landing bay doors on his _Red Dwarf_. On the third try, the doors opened and he guided his ship inside. The computer warned him that she couldn't get a clear scan of the ship, so he strapped on both his guns and picked up a third one, giving a cursory check that they were fully loaded. 

He expected to be met by whomever had taken over _Red Dwarf_ , but the landing bay was filled only with eerie silence. He crept down corridors both familiar and completely foreign. The layout was the same as on his ship, but the air was stale and the walls and floor dingy. 

His sense of self-preservation was screaming at him to run, to leave while he still could, to give up on whoever had braved contacting him. But his conscience, small and pitiful though it was, asked a very simple question: what if that voice had been Lister? 

He started to see signs of life and slowed his forward movement even more, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Maybe the internal sensors were out; that would explain why he'd managed to get so far into the ship without detection. Or, his cowardice taunted him, it could be a trap to lure him further away from his ship to steal her or kill him, or both. 

He smelled it first: the stench of unwashed bodies assaulted him and he shallowed his breathing to lessen the desire to throw up. He crouched low and peered around a corner, not seeing any guards in the corridor. Eyes constantly searching, he made it to the first doorway and bit back a gasp as he peered inside. 

It couldn't be, but he would know her anywhere: Yvonne McGruder. He stared at the back of her skin-and-bone body as she finished pulling up the straps on her dress. Even from across the room, he could see her hand shaking as she ran a comb through her limp hair. _What was going on?_ Were the crew alive in this dimension? Was she being kept prisoner? By whom? 

He must have made a noise as McGruder whirled around to face him, eyes too big in her pixie face. "My Lord," she stammered and curtsied, keeping her gaze on the floor. "I wasn't expecting you until later. I apologize for my appearance." 

A queasy feeling began at her curtsy. He kept his voice low as he stated, "Sorry, Miss, but I don't think you know me. The name's Ace. Ace Rimmer." He could feel waves of fear rolling off of McGruder and wanted to comfort her, wanted to get her the smeg away from whoever was holding her prisoner, but he needed information first. Getting her to trust him was top priority. "What's your name?" he prodded gently. 

Her coy answer was thick with fear: "What do you want it to be, Ace?" 

It was that fear that drove him to step into the room. McGruder didn't move, but he could tell she was deathly afraid of him and he didn't understand why. "It's okay; you don't have to tell me your name. Someone on this ship hailed me, asking for help. Was it you?" 

She backed away from him then, her features wreathed in absolute terror. "No! It wasn't me, I _swear_. Please don't hurt me." 

He glanced down to the gun in his hand and realized he had nowhere to holster it. He set it on the table and showed her his empty hands. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to know who's in control of this ship. If you're in danger; if you're being held prisoner, I can help." 

She shook her head, her eyes shimmering with tears. "No one can help. They've all…" Her face paled as her eyes locked on something behind him. 

His innate fear grappled with his cultivated bravado, freezing him to the spot. His hand twitched but he didn't reach for any of his guns, locked in indecision. A voice all too familiar but belonging to a stranger called out to him, twisting his stomach in knots. 

"A rather strapping fly we've caught with our web, haven't we, my pet?" 

McGruder's gaze stayed fixed on the man behind him. "Yes, My Lord." 

Rimmer heard the dull thump of boots drawing closer and curled his hand into a fist. _He could do this_. He could fight his way out, drag McGruder with him, at least save her. He let out a breath, centered himself and spun on his heel, fist swinging upward to land a blow across the jaw. His arm stopped midway in the air as he spied the gun pointed at his chest. The arm holding it was clad in majestic red and gold cloth, reminiscent of Napoleon's uniform. His gaze stumbled over the topmost insignia gracing the high collar: the batons and oak leaves of a Field Marshal. 

It took more courage than Rimmer cared to admit to finally face…that face. That sneering, cruel, smug face and hard eyes that lit up at seeing _his_ face. Rimmer's arm slowly dropped back to his side.

"My, my. I wasn't expecting to see you," taunted this dimension's Arnold Rimmer. A unsettling gaze flicked over him and Rimmer couldn't stop the shudder it caused. It didn't just strip him bare; it cut through to his heart and squeezed until it was bled dry. The knowing smirk as the other Rimmer's gaze lingered on his hair caused goose flesh to crawl across his skin. 

Rimmer couldn't concentrate with his counterpart looking at him like he was a fine meal and dessert to be lingered over. Unnerved past the point of fear into new, alarming territory, he attempted to speak. "Name's Ace Rimmer. Quite a handsome face you got there, old chum." He took some comfort that his voice only squeaked a little, but this other Rimmer seemed to notice, his smirk ticking up a notch on the broken consonants. 

"Yes," his doppelganger drawled, edging closer. "But aren’t you _pretty_." Revulsion had Rimmer leaning away as the gun caressed his jaw. "I can't wait to tarnish that golden halo shining around your head. Guards, take him to a cell and make sure he's secured. I don't want him to get away from me." 

To Rimmer's chagrin, it was only then that he noticed the five guards directly behind his doppelganger. His mind blanked as his guns were taken and his wrists sealed in magnetic cuffs. Berating himself for how easily he'd been caught, he trudged down one corridor after another with the guards flanking him. Some of the doors they passed were closed, but more were open, allowing Rimmer glimpses of the crew. 

Belatedly, he realized he'd walked straight into McGruder's quarters - no force field or restraints had kept her there. Why were the crew just standing there? Shouldn't they be running for their freedom? Banding together to fight? 

When the guards stopped outside a dark room, Rimmer was shoved inside. He stumbled as the lights flicked on, momentarily blinded. He felt something pierce the back of his neck, then waves of agony wracked his body. His legs gave out and he fell to his knees dry heaving. He offered no resistance as he was dragged over to the bed and his right ankle shackled to it. The pain was so intense his vision was red at the edges and he couldn't draw a breath. He couldn't make a sound. Tears leaked from his wide-open eyes, staring up at the light that he couldn't look away from. _What had they done to him_?

The light eventually went out, but the roiling, searing pain was unending. He had no concept of how much time passed. Every second was an eternity, and eternity was hell. 

When the light came back on, his muscles convulsed as if he was being electrocuted. Sweat and tears streaked his skin and filled his eyes and mouth and he would do _anything_ to get it to stop…

"Hello, my pet." 

That voice. It drilled deep into his body, as smooth and burning as a hot poker - but when it spoke, the other pain lessened. Rimmer latched onto that miniscule hope, but he couldn't even beg for the other man to continue speaking. 

That same red and gold uniform blocked out the light and Rimmer would have sobbed in relief if only he could. "You have been here for one hour," came the damning decree, and more tears leaked out of his eyes at his pathetic weakness.

A light touch to his cheek sent the pain spiraling away, easing until he could take his first full breath in an hour. "That's it; breathe," the soft voice urged, and with every rattled exhale, the pain seemed to drain out of him. Rimmer was left limp and shaking, his muscles sore and his skin slick with sweat, but at least it was _over_. 

Tears streamed from his closed eyes, an immeasurable relief after torturously being held open. He caught himself looking to his tormentor in gratitude and his eyes widened in horror, the taste of bile strong at the back of his throat. The sickening feeling intensified as his doppelganger's mouth curved in a knowing smile. Rimmer wanted to spit in the man's face, punch the gloating expression, rip out his eyes to get the smegger to stop _looking_ at him like that, but he was too weak to move his arms or legs. 

A satisfied smile twisted the cruel lips. "I can tell you want to hurt me, very badly. You may yet have your chance, but know that there are consequences for your actions." His doppelganger nodded to the guards. "Bring him." 

The guards saluted – three twirls and a quick snap to the temple in perfect Rimmer style. "Yes, my Emperor," they replied in unison. 

If he wasn't in such a state, Rimmer would have found the idea of declaring himself Emperor absurd. From what little he'd seen, it did seem like this dimension's Rimmer fancied himself ruler of _Red Dwarf_ , commanding its crew by fear. He certainly looked like a reenactment of Napoleon's Armee du Nord, with the white breeches, calf-high black boots and military-perfect haircut. 

Body still aching and weak, Rimmer was half-dragged down yet another corridor into what he could only think of as a throne room. It should have been a mess hall, but it had been transformed into a sort of harem, with pillows everywhere and a raised platform in front of a huge, ornate chair. Armed guards stood along the fringes near the walls; Rimmer counted at least eight. 

What looked like a privileged few were sitting on the pillows, but the rest were standing or kneeling on the floor. He recognized some crewmates, but the others were either too far away or had their backs to him so Rimmer couldn't identify them. Every single one got to their knees and bowed when the Emperor walked into the room and sat down on the throne-like chair. 

A sharp nod had Rimmer being hauled onto the platform, but his limbs were too weak for him to stand on his own. One guard held him up by a hand around his upper arm, yet Rimmer still sagged on his rubbery legs. 

At the Emperor's loud clap, music began and people started to move, clearly knowing their duties. Food was brought in, wine was poured, and out of the corner of his eye, Rimmer saw McGruder walking toward him. 

Hope that maybe he'd gotten through to her died instantly as she knelt and began removing his boots. "What are you doing?" he hissed, but she kept her head down and efficiently removed both boots and socks. Fear jammed his throat as her shaking fingers sought out the clasps on his trousers and started to pull them down. 

"McGruder _stop_ ," he begged, his eyes frantically searching for a friendly face, for anyone who looked like they could help him. He didn't want to be naked in front of the whole room, and he really didn't want to know why the Emperor wanted him naked in front of the whole room. Fractured memories surfaced of a terraforming planet and a self-loathing beast, and a crushing weight stole his breath. 

The guard unsealed the cuffs around his wrists and he took the opportunity to lightly touch McGruder's arm. Her frightened gaze met his and he mouthed urgently, "Help me." 

She shook her head minutely and tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. The guard switched arms while McGruder removed the jacket, then she stopped directly in front of him. Rimmer tensed as hands grasped his hips, holding him upright. He locked gazes with his one-time lover, a woman he barely knew, and tried to reach her. 

Her eyes softened in sympathy and apology as she pulled his shirt over his head, leaving him naked save for his wig. The hands tightened on his hips in warning, but he was too preoccupied in keeping his bits covered from prying eyes to think of escape. 

Only no one was looking at him. Not even the Emperor, who was busy kissing a redhead draped over his lap. What the smeg game was the man playing? Humiliation, of course. Demeaning, yes. But was that all? His instincts told him no, and he began to worry as he remembered his own fantasies and desires, and a planet filled with clones of himself. He shivered despite the warmth of the room. This time, there would be no rescue from Lister, Cat and Kryten. He would have to save himself. 

Rimmer knew he was too weak to make a run for his ship and without weapons he couldn't overtake all the guards on his own. It didn't look like he could count on any assistance from the prisoners; they were either brainwashed or so terrified that they'd rather stay in open cells than attempt freedom. 

A slap and an anguished moan drew his attention, and the attention of everyone else in the room. The redheaded woman was now sprawled at the Emperor's feet, and he made a show of yawning. "I grow weary. Bring more entertainment." 

Rimmer flicked a nervous glance around the room, a sense of foreboding settling over him as some prisoners turned away from the door. Looking back at the doorway, he gasped as though he'd been gut-punched: even blindfolded and tripping over his too-large clothes, he would recognize Lister anywhere. Hands manacled before him, Lister shuffled along beside his guard, appearing smaller than Rimmer ever remembered seeing him. 

As Lister approached him, Rimmer catalogued every nuance: the grime caked on his skin and clothes, the matted hair, the split lower lip, the nasty bruise peeking out from beneath the blindfold, the overall air of abuse and neglect. 

Before seeing Lister, Rimmer had merely wanted to save himself from the Emperor. Now, as his anger bubbled to the surface, Rimmer wanted the smegger _dead_. 

Too soon, yet not soon enough, Lister stood before him, breathing heavily. Rimmer dimly heard, "Remove it," and sucked in a breath as Lister's whole face was revealed: the split lip was healing, but the bruise on his cheek was fresh. Too fresh, and Rimmer's hands clenched into fists at his sides, wondering if it had been Lister that tried to contact him, and if the Emperor had left that mark. 

To see Lister so cowed was disturbing, but what sent Rimmer's heart into his mouth was Lister's reaction to seeing him. 

Blinking at the sudden brightness, Lister's gaze focused and he reeled backwards into his guard, looking like he'd seen a ghost and a miracle. The bruised mouth worked a few times, tear-filled eyes roaming over Rimmer's features. "I watched you die," Lister whispered brokenly as the swell of tears spilled over, leaving clean tracks on his cheeks.

Rimmer gaze flew to the very much alive Emperor Rimmer and back to Lister, whatever questions he had fizzling away as something bright and longing and soft shone in those dark eyes.

The air crackled between them as Lister murmured intimately, "Arnold," before pulling him down for a kiss that rocked his universe sideways. When the kiss deepened, Rimmer drowned in the emotions it stirred, forgetting where he was and the dire situation he was in. 

He was reminded when Lister was torn from him and a fist connected with his jaw. When Rimmer blinked to clear his head, the Emperor was glowering at him. "I'm going to take my time killing you again, as it seems my pet hasn't _LEARNED HIS LESSON_!" 

"No, please. _Please_ ," Lister begged as he fell onto the Emperor, clutching at the crisp jacket as his knees buckled. "I'll obey you. I'll do whatever you ask. Just don't kill him."

Rimmer's head was still spinning from Lister's kiss - _Lister's kiss_ \- and the punch, when he saw the Emperor grab the back of Lister's neck and mash their mouths together in a brutal kiss. 

Rimmer found himself being held back by two guards with a gun jammed into the underside of his jaw without any conscious knowledge of having moved. With each pained sound from Lister, he struggled against the hands holding him, uttering incoherent, frustrated noises. 

"Let him go!" 

The command echoed around the room, leaving an overbearing silence in its wake. Rimmer's chest rose and fell with his labored breathing, fear crawling up his spine as all eyes turned to him. Smegging hell; did _he_ yell that? 

The Emperor dragged his teeth away from Lister's lips, blood smeared on both their mouths where Lister's split lip had been reopened. His doppelganger's tone was unnaturally calm as he questioned, "Do you presume to give me an order, _pet_?" 

Rimmer's apprehensive gaze locked on Lister's terrified one just before the first punch landed, sending Rimmer's head snapping to the side. One of the guards landed a fist in his stomach, then hit right at his solar plexus, doubling Rimmer over as all the air was painfully, excruciatingly forced out of him. 

Lister's frantic, howled, " _NO_!" reached deep down into Rimmer's soul, igniting a tiny spark of strength that had been smothered by a lifetime of fear and cowardice. Emboldened by that strength, Rimmer dragged his head up to see Lister groveling at the Emperor's feet. "Punish me instead. I'll do _anything_ you ask, _anything_ , just don't kill him. I won't survive it. Not again."

The Emperor's expression looked disinterested, but Rimmer knew his own face; knew the bastard was enjoying seeing Lister begging at his feet and having _him_ watching helplessly from the sidelines. 

The note of satisfaction in his doppelganger's voice sickened Rimmer as Lister was ordered, "Suck me."

Without hesitation, Lister unfastened the straining breeches and shoved his mouth down on the erection. The fact that his doppelganger was getting off on demeaning Lister made Rimmer uncomfortable in ways he didn’t want to examine, and he looked away. His stomach clenched painfully as he heard the Emperor demand, "Keep watching or I snap his neck." With gritted teeth, he did as ordered, feeling the heat of embarrassment cover his upper body. 

Rimmer was only partially distracted by the stabbing throbs of pain in his body, saliva filling his mouth as he watched his-but-not-his erection disappear into that stretched, desperate mouth. Blood tainted the pale flesh whenever Lister pulled up, but it vanished from view as he pressed down, then Rimmer saw Lister swallow and heard _his_ voice give an appreciative groan. One hand tightened at the back of Lister's head, holding him in place as the Emperor's hips snapped forward, forcing the full length down Lister's throat. 

Rimmer saw Lister struggling to pull back, heard his retching and shouted, "Stop it! He can't breathe!" 

Derisive laughter intermingled with the sounds of Lister choking and something inside Rimmer snapped. The guard next to him went down with a head butt, the other took two punches to hit the floor, then Rimmer turned toward the Emperor…and his universe tilted sideways again. 

The Emperor's gun was pressed against Lister's chest, while he was still buried to the hilt in Lister's mouth. The full threat didn't even need to be spoken aloud; all the Emperor had to say was, "Bleat again, _pet_." 

Rimmer took in Lister's struggling form, and a small part of him died as his head dipped in surrender. This wasn't his Lister, but it was _Lister_ , and for all their fighting and name-calling, Rimmer had never wanted him _hurt_. Would _never_ have wanted…this.

His own eyes stung as he watched Lister, with tears streaming down his cheeks, force himself to swallow again. And again. And again. Wincing in sympathy at each swallow, Rimmer finally heard the tell-tale hitch in breathing that signaled the Emperor's release. Ashamed and relieved, his stomach churned as Lister was shoved to the floor, coughing and drawing in gulps of air. While Lister pushed himself off the floor to a sitting position, the Emperor calmly fastened his breeches and straightened his jacket. 

Rimmer wavered on his feet, for the first time in his life unable to ignore the feeling of helplessness gnawing at his insides. This time he _needed_ to do something about it, unconcerned with the guns pointed at him from the edges of the room. "What do you want from us?" he dared ask, his voice barely recognizable as Ace. 

A child-like grin creased the Emperor's face as he answered brightly, "Entertainment! You," he nudged Lister with the toe of his boot. "You want to keep him alive? Then you better service him as well as you serviced me, or I'll kill you both." 

Rimmer's entire body was aflame in humiliation at the order, not wanting to be part of a public sex show. Lister was still coughing, wiping the combined tears, semen, spit and blood from his face, but he was shaking his head as he stared at Rimmer pleadingly. What did that mean? Don't defy the insane man? Don't do it? Don't help me? 

Indecision warred within him. If he refused, they would be killed. His body had all but shriveled up since the disgusting display of power and control, and he didn't know if it was capable of getting hard under such pressure. One thing he did know: Lister was in no condition to get him off; whether he had an erection or not was inconsequential. Lister's throat had to be raw from the rough treatment and his eyes were still watering as he coughed again. 

It was with a deep, deep sense of shame that Rimmer slowly crouched down and began to crawl over to Lister. He could feel eyes on him, everyone staring at his degradation and inwardly cringed, but he would not let that man torture Lister any more. 

Lister's eyes were comically wide, half-anxious and half-afraid. Rimmer locked on them as he kept crawling, knowing he was putting on a good show for the Emperor, knowing how _he_ would like to see his enemies brought to their literal knees. 

His heart was tripping madly as he got within earshot, able to hear Lister's rasped, "Don't do this. He'll kill you anyway to punish me." 

Rimmer ignored Lister's pleas, instead asking under his breath, "Will he care if you use your hands?" He picked up one of Lister's hands and placed it on his hip, shuddering at the feel of stickiness on his skin. 

Eyes dulled by knowledge and resignation met his. "You know what he wants." 

Rimmer did know, but he also heard the rough, pained edge to Lister's voice. His little spark of courage surged briefly, just long enough for him to make one of the bravest decisions of his existence. He breathed out, though it did little to steady his nerves, then leaned in to press a kiss to the back of Lister's jaw. "He wants a show, so I'll give him one. Lie back." 

Lister's eyes glittered with something dangerous as he croaked out, "No." With surprising strength, Lister shoved him backward onto the floor and straddled his thighs. "You don’t know what he wants. I do." 

Rimmer yelped as his neck was attacked, nips and licks on previously unknown sensitive areas drawing out stuttering moans. 

Rimmer knew he was sprawled out on a raised platform, surrounded by prisoners of a megalomaniac, degraded and ashamed, but his body didn't seem to care. Lister stroked and sucked and bit with practiced precision, eliciting embarrassing noises out of him and finally a stiff enough erection that was promptly sucked down. 

Tears leaked out of his tightly closed eyes as he tried not to think about why Lister was doing what he was doing. He tried to concentrate on the feelings racing through his system, the nerve endings alive and singing, the stroke of fingertips on his hips, the rasp of cloth against his thighs; the warm, wet mouth engulfing him. The coldness of the chains around Lister's wrists raise goose flesh whenever they connected with his overheated skin, and to his unending shame, heightened his arousal. When he felt the tightening start at the base of his spine, it wasn't just his body that was drained; it felt like his soul was being ripped from him as well. 

The second Lister's mouth left his skin, bone-deep humiliation settled over him. He felt dirty and used; not just for himself, but for Lister as well. He'd only had to do this once; with the way Lister intimately knew his body, it was likely that the Emperor demanded Lister's attentions all the time. Rimmer pushed himself upright, feeling dizzy and nauseated as Lister struggled to his knees. 

Singular applause further dampened his coital high and Rimmer shot a pitiful glare at his smirking doppelganger. 

"I don't have to ask if it was good for you. I can see it in your eyes." Rimmer grit his teeth as the Emperor stroked Lister's head like a favored pet. Then the hand tightened in Lister's hair and it was all Rimmer could do to not rip the man's arm off. "What else will you do to keep him alive? Would you kill her?" The Emperor flicked a hand at the sea of faces.

Emotionally stripped bare, Rimmer almost laughed aloud at the absurd question. Dave Lister wasn't a killer, plain and simple. It was one absolute truth he knew about Lister. 

But clearly not a truth for this abused, tormented shadow of Lister. Eyes pinched in anguish, body covered in filth and staring directly at him, Rimmer's entire world-view came crashing down at Lister's whispered, desperate, "Yes."

Everything slowed to a standstill as Rimmer's mind faltered, unable to comprehend a universe where Lister would contemplate taking a life. Was Lister so broken that he lost his moral compass? Had every shred of humanity been beaten out of him?

The Emperor's taunting voice filtered through Rimmer's shock. "Would you stick a knife in his gut if it meant I let this pathetic pet live?" 

Feeling slow and stupid, Rimmer blinked until Lister came into focus. The Emperor had turned Lister's head to look at a vaguely familiar blond in the crowd. As the blond was forced to his knees by a guard, he muttered something in a language Rimmer didn't understand. Rimmer struggled to remember the man's name; he was one of Lister's best mates. Petersen. Surely this madness would end now. Lister wouldn't kill _Petersen_. 

Anguished, defeated tears slipped down Rimmer's face as Lister repeated his single utterance: "Yes." _Why_? Why would Lister be willing to kill for _him_? They were _strangers_ , no matter the brief connection they shared under duress, or who Lister thought he actually was. 

A warning cry stuck in Rimmer's throat as the Emperor hauled Lister up by his hair, and with his free hand, unsheathed a knife strapped to his lower back. Rimmer's vision narrowed to the dark fingers being forced around the handle of the knife and the longer ones holding them there. 

"If you let him die too quickly," the Emperor warned, hauling Lister closer with their combined grip on the knife, "I'll slice off _his_ fingers one by one." 

Rimmer didn't dare breathe as the knife hovered between the two men. Failed lessons hurled through his mind at lightning speed: _a quick jab straight up under the jaw, sideways at the center of the left breast, under the sternum slightly upwards_. Any of them would end this nightmare, but it meant Lister would have to deal the killing blow. Was killing a madman any better than killing Petersen? 

With the way the knife shook in Lister's hand, Rimmer knew Lister's conscience was wavering. A glance to Lister's face showed conflicted emotions and Rimmer finally found his voice. "Don't do this, Lister," he urged gently. "You're not a killer."

The conflicting emotions settled into absolute calmness. "I can't watch you die again," Lister stated, a simple fact. 

Impulsively, Rimmer lunged at Lister, easily taking the knife from the startled man. Before Rimmer could use it, debilitating pain lanced up his arm, forcing his fingers open and the knife to clatter to the floor. He screamed as heat and pressure filled his head, collapsing to the floor in convulsions as it spread to every cell in his body.


	2. Fallen Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I added to the warnings for this part. Rimmer regains consciousness. He wishes he hadn't.

When Rimmer regained consciousness, his first thought was _Lister_. Immediately on its heels was _Ow, smeg_. He ached everywhere, but there was a considerable strain on his arms. Upon opening his eyes, he realized why. His wrists were shackled to the wall high above his head, holding his entire body upright. His feet were flat on the ground and he had a wall at his back, but the full-body stretch rapidly overwhelmed his senses. He tugged on his wrists, but he couldn't get any sort of leverage; it was as if they were made for someone his exact height. 

Memories of his self-loathing beast returned in full color, stereo surround sound as he noticed his surroundings. None of the dungeons he'd been in had looked quite so luxurious, tidy or well-organized. Certainly none of them had a huge four poster bed dominating the center. He shivered as he saw the sets of chains dangling off the bedposts, each ending in a different sort of cuff. The headboard looked like it's own torture device, made of metal horizontal rods about a foot apart, reaching to the top of the crossrails. His mouth went dry as he noticed the wall opposite him. Row upon row of leather and wooden sticks, whips, paddles and other torture devices he didn't want to know the uses of gleamed dully in the light. 

His gaze flicked back and forth between the wall and the bed, thoughts of torture heightening his anxiety. Would he be beaten until he was a mindless drone like the rest of the crew? Would he be used as a sexual plaything by his doppelganger? Had everyone on the ship been chained to that bed, their spirits broken beneath the whip? How many times had Lister endured the Emperor's depravity?

His stomach soured as he wondered where Lister was now and what was being done to him. Was Lister being punished for _his_ defiance? Had he only made it worse by trying to stop Lister from killing Petersen? Was Lister already dead and the Emperor was biding his time, making him sweat? 

"You awake yet?" a voice called to him cheerfully and he whipped his head toward the sound. His universe flipped upside down, turned inside out and imploded back to a tiny speck of nothingness, leaving the gap inside his chest. Lister, the same Lister who had groveled at the Emperor's feet, sucked two todgers and was willing to kill Petersen to save his life, was cleaning his teeth. 

The relief that Lister wasn't dead clashed with the confusion of why he looked so…clean. Gone were the filth and oversized clothes. Water droplets sparkled in Lister's hair and slid down his flat, toned chest, causing the unbuttoned red silk shirt to cling to him in wet patches. Black leather trousers hugged his hips, revealing the dark curls in the 'V' made by the ends of the wide open fly. His was certainly not a body that had been starved or neglected, though the split lip and purpling along the cheek were real enough. As Rimmer's gaze lingered on the gem-laden pendant secured around Lister's neck with a thick black cord, a terrible, sinking feeling began to take root. 

Lister grinned around a mouthful of foam as his fingers sensually stroked the pendant. "Nice, yeah? It's an infinity symbol inside an Ouroboros. He had them specially made for us." 

Suddenly, everything that had happened to Rimmer since jumping to this dimension caught up with him. Tears welled in his eyes as it all replayed in his mind, from the torture to the fear to the public humiliation, but what kept recurring was Lister. He'd seen the fear in Lister's eyes. He'd tasted the relief in their kiss. He'd heard the resignation in Lister's voice. The Lister that stood before him now wasn't cowed or afraid. He had a cocky smile and stood up tall, exuding confidence and raw sexuality. 

Understanding slowly dawned on Rimmer and the tears started to fall. An old, familiar dread consumed him: the knowledge that he'd been the butt of a cruel prank, only this wasn't a prank. It was very real and it was the most devastating experience of his existence. " _Why?_ " he rasped, a frantic edge to his voice. 

Lister spat the remaining toothpaste on the floor and chucked the toothbrush onto a small table before explaining with a shrug, "It was fun." 

Hysterical laughter bubbled up. Before Rimmer could stop it, he was laughing and crying at the sheer magnitude of how smegged he was. He was _already_ a plaything, nothing more than another body in the Emperor's stable of 'pets'. "You're sick," he choked out between pitiful sobs. He couldn't stop the hysterics, not even after Lister cupped his exposed genitals. His sobbing laughter transformed to broken moans as he was fondled, his mind too crippled to fight his body's reactions to the sure touch. 

"I'm the sick one, eh?" Lister remarked casually. "I'm not the one getting hard while chained to a wall, pet." 

_Pet_ echoed in his mind as Lister rubbed and stroked him with expert knowledge of his body's trigger points. Heat suffused his skin from the inside out, the coil of tension growing unbearable. He scraped and clawed for a shred of dignity, for anything that would stop the inevitable. "No," he whined, even as he pushed his erection into Lister's tormenting hand. "Please." 

"Please, what?" was ghosted into his neck, warm breath prickling his skin as that hand kept manipulating him. 

He thrust on a downward stroke, mortified as the familiar tingling started at the base of his spine. "Pleas-s-stop," he hiccupped, embarrassment briefly winning the struggle against his arousal. Humiliated tears slipped down his cheeks as he whimpered at the loss of Lister's hand. His head hung down limply as he gulped in air, fluctuating between relief, disgust and anguish. His erection waved tauntingly at him, a physical reminder of his weakness. 

A full body shudder wracked him as Lister's fingertips traced his chest lovingly. "You beg so prettily," Lister murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth. "We'll make sure you get to do a lot of it." 

He was left hanging in his shame as Lister turned toward the new voice calling out, "Did my precious pet start without me?" 

At hearing the Emperor, a vision of being whipped bloody while chained spread-eagle to the bed dampened Rimmer's unwanted arousal, but he felt neither fear nor anxiety. Despite the painful tingling in his hands and arms, the ache of his abandoned erection and the hollowness in his chest, he was numb. 

"You were with McGruder," Lister's voice sounded put-out and Rimmer distantly heard the soft smacking of mouths engaged in deep kisses. "I can still taste her on your tongue." 

The tenuous confidence he'd nurtured as Ace had been shattered. It wasn't until the bubble burst that he realized just how unworthy he truly was of the name "Ace." His bravery; his heroics: those had been borrowed just as much as the name he'd used. 

"Jealous?" murmured the Emperor amid the sounds of lips meeting and parting.

Lethargy claimed him as Rimmer realized the simple truth: he wasn't going to survive this. Not the torture, not the emotional manipulation, not the humiliation, not the years of sexual servitude ahead of him. When they found out he was a hologram, there would be literally no end to his suffering. 

"Only that I didn't get to join you this time. It took forever to feel clean again." Lister's voice lowered to a seductive tone that perked up Rimmer's dwindling erection. Rimmer groaned piteously, though Lister and his other self were oblivious to everything but themselves. "You should do a full body inspection to make sure I didn't miss a crack." 

What Rimmer needed was someone to save him. A quiet whimper escaped. What he needed was Ace, only he wasn't sure he could fake being him anymore. He cast about for a trace of courage, for a smidgen of self-respect, for a dash of confidence. Anything to drag him out of the depths of hopelessness. 

"Are you angling for a tongue bath?" the Emperor suggested playfully. "That will have to be earned." 

Rimmer's head snapped up as the answer presented itself to him clearly. He'd knocked out two guards and yelled at the Emperor to protect Lister. He'd crawled on hands and knees to direct the Emperor's attention away from Lister. He'd been willing to suck Lister – in the middle of a roomful of people – in order to spare him further pain. He'd stolen a knife with the intention of killing the Emperor – _him_. Those weren't the acts of the dashing and brave Ace Rimmer; those were the acts of lifelong coward Arnold Rimmer breaking out of his shell. Protecting Lister had been the catalyst for his heroics. It was in the way Lister had looked at him just before their kiss: eyes soft and guileless, promising hope and life and love.

His heart lurched painfully. The same look Lister was giving the Emperor as he vowed, "Anything you desire and more." 

Even knowing it was a lie, that look was powerful and Rimmer still felt it's pull.

Not used to seeing his face soft with emotion, Rimmer was transfixed by the devotion shining from his doppelganger's eyes. With a gentleness Rimmer didn't think him capable of, the Emperor slid his hands beneath Lister's shirt and pushed it over his shoulders, fluttering the silk onto the floor. His-not-his fingers trailed up the backs of Lister's arms to rest on his muscled shoulders. The harsh words contradicted the low, enticing tone as the Emperor declared, "Your skin warm and glowing from my hand." 

When the Emperor bent to press a kiss to the pendant nestled in the hollow of Lister's throat, his soft sound of need was drowned out by Lister's pleased murmur. 

Lister wasn't as gentle as he removed the Emperor's jacket, shoving it off his shoulders and yanking the undershirt over his head. Rimmer's moan was echoed by his other self as Lister flicked the Emperor's matching pendant into his mouth, sucking obscenely on it as he looked up at the Emperor through lowered lashes. It glittered wetly as Lister's mouth moved downward, his teeth closing around one nipple as his hands worked at the Emperor's breeches. 

Rimmer was breathing heavily, captivated by Lister's sensuous movements. His erection stiffened as his other self groaned and buried his hands in Lister's dreads. His-not-his hands stroked down Lister's back, giving Lister's arse a firm squeeze before tucking his thumbs into the waistband of the leather. 

Pulling off from the now wet and reddened nipple, Lister flashed a coy smile before his hands joined the Emperor's at his waist, both of them pushing the trousers down his legs to the floor. Hands-not-his-hands slid around Lister's waist, fingers spread wide to cover as much skin as possible. The twin slaps to Lister's exposed arse startled Rimmer, but Lister's eyes were half-closed in pleasure. There was a dangerous lilt to the Emperor's tone as he promised, "Stripes of red across your back and thighs."

Lister made an eager sound as his hands delved into the open breeches and pushed them down the Emperor's legs. He sank gracefully to his knees, Rimmer shuddering as Lister's mouth closed around the head of the firming member and sucked greedily. Rimmer swore he could feel those lips around his erection, the suction and the warm wetness and the tongue pressing just _so_. He whined as his hips rocked into thin air, _needing_. _Wanting_. 

Lister pulled off with a pop and licked his spit-shiny lips, gazing up worshipfully at the Emperor. The atmosphere thickened as the Emperor's finger traced the bruise along Lister's cheek. Without a word spoken, Lister bent to the task of removing the calf-high boots, placing a reverent kiss to the tops of the Emperor's bared feet. Lister slowly stood, dragging his hands along his doppelganger's skin as their eyes remained locked on each other.

Rimmer swallowed hard as the Emperor ran his hands up Lister's chest, his fingers coming to rest at Lister's neck. Thumbs traced the line of Lister's throat to his jaw, tilting his head back for a deep kiss. Rimmer's breath stuttered as his doppelganger commanded, "Your body opened wide and greedy." 

Rimmer mimicked Lister's tongue swiping across his lips, his insides quaking in nervous energy as Lister looked directly over at him. "I want him to watch me. I want to feel his eyes on me while your hands drag a screaming, staggering orgasm out of my limp and used body." 

That soulful, hypnotic stare was broken when the Emperor slapped Lister's cheek. As Lister turned back to face his doppelganger, the Emperor slapped his other cheek. Rimmer's hands curled into fists at the rough treatment, but Lister was staring up at his other self with a lazy smile curving his mouth. 

Rimmer flinched as the Emperor's hand raised again, but rather than the expected sharp slap, his doppelganger traced the reddened skin with his fingertips. "Tout ce que vous désirez et plus." The air crackled with energy as the Emperor plundered Lister's mouth, all gentleness and loving caresses giving way to sexual need. 

Rimmer squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the image of himself and Lister locked in a passionate embrace. Tried not to see his hands tracing the darker skin, his tongue sliding alongside Lister's, his erection rubbing Lister's stomach, his fingers wrapping around Lister's erection and giving it a few good pulls. He could taste arousal on the back of his tongue, thickening his cock and quickening his breath as their low groans caused sweat to break out all over his body. 

A stinging smack across his cheek brought him out of his fantasy to stare into his lecherous, knowing reflection. "You're aching for him to suck your cock down his throat. You want him looking up at you from his knees, his eyes begging you to hurt him. You want to feel him swallowing around your hard dick, pulling your cum out of your balls and into his stomach." Rimmer bit back the whimper, but couldn't stop the waves of heat rolling through his body at the explicit picture the Emperor painted. He shook his head in denial, but the evidence to the contrary wavered between them.

His breaths started coming in short, panicked bursts as the Emperor leaned in, warm breath tickling his ear before lips touched his skin. "You can't lie to me, pet." Rimmer groaned in relief as a hand closed around his erection, the thumb rubbing across the tip. "You'd like to watch him, wouldn't you?"

He shook his head again, not trusting that his voice wouldn't crack. A cry of half-pain, half-pleasure was wrung out of him as his-not-his-hand did the twist and rub and tap of his late-night masturbation sessions, bringing him painfully close to the edge. 

The hand and the seductive voice continued, lips brushing along his jaw, "You'd like to see him in the heat of passion, hear him begging us to let him come, watch him writhe and dance for us." 

The ache at the center of his being was growing stronger as the Emperor slowed his strokes, the caress of lips tantalizing close to the corner of his mouth. Rimmer could barely draw a breath, sinking deeper into himself as his senses overloaded, the heat of the too-near body causing sweat to glide down his naked torso. He eagerly met the tongue when it slipped between his lips, responding to the sharp teeth and unrelenting pressure with half-moans and whimpers. 

His entire body tensed, poised at the point of no return.

" _NO_!" he howled as he was abruptly abandoned, lips still tingling and body arching toward the hand that was no longer there. 

The Emperor tutted at him, amusement thick in his voice and enjoyment clear in his features. "Don't worry, pet. We won't neglect you for long." 

Frustrated, angry tears blurred his vision as the continuous throbs of denial spread upward and throughout his body, blinding him to everything except his body's demands. He'd almost rather they whipped him; at least then he'd be in excruciating torment without the tease of an orgasm just out of reach. Rimmer couldn't bend over or curl up, though he'd managed to get his left thigh high enough to press against his painful erection, giving him some small relief. He couldn't hold that pose for long though, and he was back to being uncomfortably hard. 

A burning sensation radiated from the back of his neck to his extremities, like his blood was on fire as it raced through his veins. " _SMEG_!" he screamed and twisted in his bonds, but he couldn't escape the debilitating torment inside him. "Make it stop! _Make it stop_! _Please_ ," he choked out through his tightening throat. " _Please_!" 

He didn't notice the sensation lessening at first, but when he was able to open his teary eyes, breathing erratically, he discovered new sources of pain. His body was being pulled downward, his wrists jammed into the top of the shackles. The strained muscles burned down his arms, torso and thighs, to his legs which were spread wide apart. He tried to move his feet closer together, but something dug into his ankles and stopped all movement. Rimmer was immediately, overwhelmingly, terrified. 

"You'll be allowed to move when you've earned the right," the Emperor's cold, hard voice informed him, sending another wave of panic throughout his aching body. "It's time you learned your place, pet." His jaw was grabbed and he had no choice but to look into his other self's arrogant, furious gaze. " _This_ ," Rimmer hissed as his now-limp penis was gripped tightly, "belongs to me. You will never deny me access to it. You will never cover it up. You will never touch it without my permission." 

If his body weren't already strained to the breaking point, his legs would have buckled beneath the punishing hold. He couldn't shake his head; couldn't move at all, just tried to breathe through the pain. 

Whatever Rimmer did or didn't do, it was obviously the wrong thing. Tears slipped down his face as the Emperor's fingernails cut into his jaw, his eyes darkened in anger and annoyance. "When I speak to you, you will answer me with clear words, not with body movements or whimpers or sobs." 

Terrified that the Emperor's next move would be to flay him alive, Rimmer managed to squeak out, "Yes." 

The pressure on his jaw eased, the lighter touch sending confused signals to his brain. "I do not repeat myself, so be grateful for my generosity this one time. My precious pet wants your eyes on him at all times, watching him until I let him come. You'd like to watch him, wouldn't you?" 

The threat of what would happen if Rimmer didn't watch hung thick in the air. Hating that he'd imagined it, hating that he'd been forced into admitting it, hating _himself_ , Rimmer choked out, "Yes," feeling whatever was left of his soul shriveling and dying. 

He didn't make a sound as he was kissed again, deep and strong and commanding. Emotionally wrung out, body exhausted and mentally drained, he responded automatically, the salt of his tears mingling with the faint trace of mint that could only be Lister's toothpaste.

Rimmer felt hands roaming his body but his brain simply couldn't process any further stimulation. He heard a _crack_ , only realizing that his hip had been slapped when the sting buzzed at the edges of his mind. He was trapped between the Emperor's erection pressed into his groin and the fingers digging into the flesh of his arse. Every muscle tensed and he gave a muffled shriek as he felt fingertips probing into the crack of his arse. 

Rimmer drew in ragged gasps as his mouth was finally released, despising the lustful look in the Emperor's eyes. "Oh, pet. We're going to have so much fun." 

Even though it wasn't a question, a sense of self-preservation struggled to the surface. Voice heavy with resignation, Rimmer meekly replied, "Yes." It was apparently the correct thing to do. The outside of his ankle was tapped and he found he could shift his legs in enough so that he was uncomfortably stretched, but no longer strained to the breaking point. 

At the back of his mind, Rimmer realized he was being trained to obey: punishment for disobedience, reward for obedience. His body started to shake, and it kept shaking even after the Emperor turned away from him. All the heat drained from him, leaving him cold and empty at his core. 

Rimmer jumped at the loud _smack_ , his attention focusing on the tableau before him. Lister was on his hands and knees on the bed, smirking as Rimmer met his gaze. The Emperor was standing behind Lister, an identical smirk making him look more cruel as he brought his hand down against Lister's flank. 

With thoughts of punishment swirling in his mind, Rimmer did his best to keep watching Lister's face, but he could only meet his eyes a few times. The sheer happiness shining from Lister's unfocused gaze was too much; no one should _enjoy_ being spanked, but it was clear from Lister's expression that he did. Lister's mouth was half-open and his eyes half-closed as the Emperor's hands rained down on his arse, harder smacks intermixed with gentle rubs and softer taps. 

It was absolutely disgusting. It was perverted and wrong and evil. Short, harsh pants accompanied the hands impacting Lister's skin, Rimmer's breath hitching whenever Lister's eyes closed completely, clearly savouring the pain. He didn't know how Lister remained silent through the constant barrage his body underwent, or how he only swayed a little bit from the force of the blows. His arse had to be as hot as fire yet Lister still radiated calmness, a faraway look in his eyes. 

The last slap was delivered with a grunt of satisfaction, and Rimmer felt as though he'd been the one delivering the blows. His arms ached and his legs trembled and to his horror, he discovered he was half-hard. 

Rimmer's relief that it was over was short-lived as the Emperor asked, "What do you desire?" and Lister immediately replied, "More." 

Fear raced through Rimmer as the Emperor turned toward the wall of torture implements, leaving Lister on the bed. A small knot of resentment tightened in Rimmer's gut as Lister's gaze swept down his body, the tip of his tongue peeking out to wet his lips as he spied Rimmer's half-hard member. Rimmer desperately tried to think of freezers, the icy coldness of space, fear, pain; anything that would distract his body's remembrance of that mouth on his todger. Lister's expression seemed to taunt him: _I know what you want_ and he felt blood rushing to his face even as it rushed to thicken his erection. 

Lister's knowing smirk was wiped off his face at the crack of leather hitting flesh, the wince of pain dissolving immediately into a look of serene satisfaction. Rimmer dared a glance up; the thick leather strap in his doppelganger's hand wasn’t very large, but it was loud as he snapped it against Lister's arse, slapping it back and forth like a tennis racket returning a volley. 

The air grew uncomfortably thick and warm, stifling Rimmer's attempts to draw a full breath. He tensed with each hit, unconsciously mimicking Lister's muscles as they clenched and released with each blow. Rimmer was rapidly tiring, his muscles weak and aching with the involuntary movements. Only his erection seemed immune to his body's fatigue. It bobbed in time with the slight rocking of his hips, which matched Lister's minute arching into the blows. 

He found himself drawn to the expressions crossing Lister's features: the trace of pain around his eyes that faded after each impact, the look of ecstasy as the Emperor increased the force of his swings, the shock and delight as the Emperor changed position to hit him from another angle. 

Rimmer moaned softly whenever Lister's eyes locked on his, their fierce need burrowing deep and latching on, flaming his desire. His hands clenched in the air uselessly, wanting to hold Lister down; wanting to be the one creating that need. He let out a frustrated growl as the slaps abruptly stopped and Lister's eyes closed, all of them breathing harshly. 

The hands that had marked Lister's skin now smoothed along his arse, the Emperor's pleased murmurs pressing into the reddened skin. Rimmer licked his lips as he watched the Emperor's tongue flicking over the heated skin; a sickening twist of pure _want_ consuming him as Lister's fingers clawed at the bedsheets when that tongue delved between his cheeks. 

Rimmer's mouth filled with saliva as he watched Lister fighting to hold onto his control. His expression shifted from pain to pleasure and back again, yet only short, panted breaths escaped Lister's lips. A faint humming filled the air and Lister choked back several groans, his body trembling as he locked his elbows, stopping his upper body from collapsing onto the bed. 

A deep well of satisfaction opened up inside Rimmer as he saw tears shining in Lister's eyes; satisfaction slipping into white-hot desire as Lister's gasping mouth released a gorgeous, low, intense moan. 

With a final, pleased hum, the Emperor's face appeared above Lister's arse, licking at the sweat pooled at the dip of Lister's spine. It wasn't until the Emperor asked, "What do you desire?" and Lister's voice broke as he begged, "More," that Rimmer realized they were tears of frustration. 

Whatever Lister had been hoping for, it had been denied him, and Rimmer was confused by wicked thoughts of _good_ and _doesn't deserve it_. 

He sucked in a breath as the Emperor pulled Lister up to his knees, one hand smoothing down Lister's rapidly rising and falling chest to wrap around the leaking erection tapping Lister's stomach. The other hand stretched across Lister's throat, rubbing up and down the vulnerable column of flesh. Rimmer's fingers curled helplessly as anger spiked, the Emperor fixing him with a knowing look, daring him to say something. 

"Our new pet is jealous," the Emperor purred into Lister's ear as he gently pulled Lister's erection. 

Lister's gaze was trained on the ceiling, his hands fisted at his sides, and Rimmer could see his control was in danger of snapping. "Yes," he whispered. 

Rimmer winced as the Emperor squeezed the head of Lister's erection, the sound of Lister's ragged, indrawn breath loud in the silence. "It's a shame you failed when you were so close. Our pet would have enjoyed watching me pound into your tight, bruised ass." 

The tears that leaked from Lister's eyes had nothing to do with pleasure, and everything to do with the devastated, disappointed expression on his face. "Yes," came the quiet, resigned reply. 

At the Emperor's ordered, "Stand up," nervous tension filled Rimmer. He held his breath as Lister carefully slid backward on his knees, making sure the Emperor's hands stayed in contact with both columns of flesh until his feet were on the floor. 

Rimmer bit his tongue as he saw the Emperor's hand tighten briefly around Lister's throat, knowing that anything he said would only make it worse. The Emperor's, "Good," was spoken into Lister's ear, but Rimmer could sense the Emperor was looking directly at him when he said it. Rimmer's focus was on Lister, who seemed to have lost his confident, serene calmness. 

Lister's head drooped slightly as the Emperor stretched out one of his arms toward the bedpost, Rimmer unable to catch his gaze. Lister's mouth tightened as one of the padded cuffs was secured around his wrist, his expression crestfallen as he raised his head to stare straight ahead. The Emperor repeated the move on Lister's other wrist, leaving his arms stretched out at his sides between the bedposts, his naked, exposed body on display.

Despite the nervous fluttering in his chest, desire flooded Rimmer as he got his first full, unhindered look at Lister's body: lean and fit, not too muscular and not an extra ounce of fat anywhere. The power and anticipation in his coiled muscles. The tapping of his erection on his flat stomach as it bobbed with his shallow breaths. A sheen of sweat highlighting the definition in his chest and arms, a soft sound catching in Rimmer's throat as a drop of sweat disappeared into the curls surrounding Lister's erection. 

Lister hadn't made a sound, but Rimmer felt eyes on him and looked up. The Emperor had swept all of Lister's dreads over his shoulder and was tying a black strip of cloth around his neck and hair, securing it. Lister looked more disappointed than nervous, but Rimmer's stomach was in knots, not wanting to watch as Lister was whipped. 

The thing in the Emperor's hand didn't look like a whip; it had too many strips of leather attached to the handle and looked more like a mop head than anything. When it made contact with Lister's back, Rimmer expected something a lot louder and a scream of pain, but the soft _thwacks_ were almost drowned out by Lister's hiss. 

Instead of the playful, unfocused gaze, there was a pleading desperation in Lister's eyes as the leather connected with his skin. The flashes of pain crossing Lister's features didn't fade into enjoyment, and the tears that filled Lister's eyes weren't of frustration. This was a punishment; clear and simple, but Rimmer didn't understand what it was Lister had failed at to deserve it. 

Rimmer couldn't look away, couldn’t not stare into those desperate eyes but he was helpless. He tugged his arms downward, but he couldn't feel his hands anymore; not even the pins and needles of earlier. His legs, which were still spread slightly apart, were beginning to numb. 

_Breathe_ he tried to project, holding Lister's stare. He inhaled deeply, willing Lister to do the same. Little hitches interrupted the smooth in-and-out, but soon they were breathing in tandem, the lines of pain slowly easing from around Lister's eyes. 

Rimmer had never felt so connected with another human being, lost in the gratitude shining back at him as the whip painted the promised red stripes across Lister's back. The monotonous thudding of the leather faded to the background as he drank in Lister's erratic emotions; the pain and the resignation and the disappointment, the failure and the hope and the strength. 

As Lister's expression twisted in a silent scream at a particularly hard slash, Rimmer lunged forward, pain cutting through the numbness of his wrists as he clawed the air. Lister's eyes widened, then shone with such pure lust that Rimmer would have gladly wrapped his bare hands around the Emperor's neck and squeezed the life out of him. 

Rimmer growled low in his throat as the Emperor ran his hand along Lister's back, smoothing over the skin he'd worked over. The touch was reverent, an almost worshipful glow transforming the other Rimmer's features from sadistic to rapturous, as if he'd had a transcendent religious experience. Even the Emperor's tone was filled with awe as he asked, "What do you desire?" 

Rimmer's heart hammered in his throat as he silently begged Lister to object, to lie; anything to stop his body's punishment. 

Lister's mouth tilted up in a faint smile, the longing in his gaze heated and needy as it slid down Rimmer's body. Rimmer hadn't known that a caressing look could be as intense as a touch, but he could almost feel Lister's hand trailing down his chest to wrap around his cock, stiffening it even further. 

Renewed confidence glowed in Lister's eyes as he replied, "More." 

Mild disgust briefly flitted across Lister's features as the Emperor kissed along his shoulders, murmuring into the skin he had marked. The faint smile never left Lister's face, his eyes never left Rimmer's as the Emperor removed the cuffs, pressing lips to each wrist as it was released. 

Rimmer was so transfixed by Lister that he didn't fully notice the Emperor touching something on the side table until his entire body blazed with pain so shocking it stole his breath. He didn't know how long it lasted, but when it stopped, he was left limp and heaving.

Rimmer didn't feel his ankles being released. He didn't feel the Emperor's body that caught his near-collapse as his wrists were freed from their shackles. He didn't feel the hands dragging him over to the bed and dumping him onto it, letting him flop like a dead fish. Tears winked from his eyes as he realized he was entirely numb and had no control over his body. 

He couldn't fight back as he was shifted until he was upright against the headboard, his lead lolling to the side. His-not-his erection bobbed in front of his eyes as the Emperor stood over him and he feared it was going to be jammed down his throat. Terrified, Rimmer sent commands to his hands to _move_ , but he didn't see so much as a flicker of movement. 

Rimmer's vision blurred as his eyes overflowed with tears, making a noise of protest as the Emperor picked up a wide leather band with thin chains dangling from it. Rimmer couldn't even form proper words, just sounds that conveyed his fear as the collar was secured tightly around his neck, forcing his head up and back against the headboard. He started hyperventilating as it was pulled taut, the clinks of metal on metal above his head letting him know that he was now hanging by his neck from one of the bars of the headboard. In his mind he thrashed and clawed at the binding, but in reality his body was a dead weight, helping to strangle him. 

The Emperor grabbed him under the arms and sat him up straight, relieving the pressure against his throat. He drew in great gulps of air, coughing and wheezing. 

On an indrawn breath, fingers slipped into his mouth and pushed his jaw open. Panic seized him as his lower lip was curled inward over his teeth and held there with two fingers. Rimmer started screaming as the Emperor's other hand covered his face, two fingers pushing his upper lip over his teeth as they pressed up into the roof his mouth. 

Rimmer's unintelligible cries of _no_ and _please_ and _don't_ were muffled by the head of the Emperor's erection sliding between the fingers and into his wide open mouth. Tears of humiliation streamed from his tightly closed eyes as it sawed in and out, going deeper with each slow thrust. 

"Just a little taste, pet," the Emperor coaxed as the head slid along the roof of his mouth. 

His pleading litany of _stop_ was as effective as his hands clawing at the Emperor's hold over his eyes, nose and mouth. Blinded, terrified and used like an inflatable sex doll, his body just lay there, _taking it_. 

His cries were abruptly cut off as the Emperor's hand pressed down on his nose, stifling his breathing, forcing him to draw staggered breaths through his mouth. Saliva quickly pooled at the back of his throat, making it almost impossible to breathe. He tried to swallow quickly, but it was difficult with his jaw forced open. The Emperor must have felt him readying to swallow and timed his thrust, hitting the back of his mouth as his throat constricted. Rimmer spluttered and coughed, trying to breathe and cry at the same time. 

As the Emperor tilted his head further back, something hard pinched the back of Rimmer's neck as it was pressed against one of the metal rods, and every part of him came alive with feeling. The throbs in his wrists where they'd been cut by the shackles. The sting of the slaps to his skin. The deep ache in his stomach where he'd been punched. The burn of every muscle. The sharp pain of his teeth cutting into his lips. The strained stretch of his jaw and neck as the Emperor succeeded in getting the head of his dick into the top of his throat. Rimmer started to gag, the reflex to throw up barely halted as the Emperor pulled out with a moan, then released his mouth. 

The tears continued to flow as Rimmer dry-heaved, partly from being choked, but mostly about being violated. He thought he'd known what it was like to be powerless. He thought he'd known what it was like to be absolutely helpless and at someone else's mercy. 

This alternative version of him; this sadistic, brutal tyrant, in mere minutes had reduced Rimmer's self-loathing beast, a planet of insane clones, his family, his schoolmates; every single person who had ever bullied him, to the slight annoyance of a tiny insect. 

Rimmer's head swayed with the not-quite gentle pats to his cheek. "You'll get better, pet," the Emperor cooed lasciviously. "I'll make sure of it." 

The bed dipped as the Emperor left him coughing, sniffling and crying, used and forgotten like yesterday's underwear crumpled up and tossed into the corner. He wanted to shrink into himself. He wanted to return to the numbness he had found so horrifying a short few minutes ago. He wanted to lose himself in the painful return of circulation to his hands and arms and legs. 

Rimmer was allowed no respite as something pushed against his chest and the Emperor ordered, "Clean him." 

Numbed to the point of detachment, Rimmer's eyes opened slowly, his lashes sticking together with his tears. He couldn’t tilt his head down, but he could see Lister's lower body straddling his sprawled out legs. He watched the flex of muscles in Lister's back, then he felt the brush of Lister's dreads on his thigh before a more solid, wet touch. 

He shuddered, realizing it was Lister's tongue as it slowly dragged along the crease of his thigh. Tears slipped down his cheeks at the soft press of lips against his skin before the tongue swept along his abdomen, then pressed deep into his other thigh crease. Another gentle kiss was touched to his stomach as Lister's tongue worked its way up his chest. 

It was too much: Rimmer couldn't process the gentleness after such brutality. He wanted to shake his head; he wanted to push Lister away, but his body still wasn't responding to his commands. Silent tears continued their path down his face and he let his mind drift away with the delicate, rough ministrations. 

It was repulsive and wildly intimate, feeling Lister's tongue following the trail of sweat and spit on his body. It was thankful, it was an apology, it was gratitude, it was hope. It was strength. It let Rimmer know he wasn't alone in this. 

Lister rose to his knees, Rimmer catching the glint of anger in his eyes before the flat of Lister's tongue bathed the underside of his jaw. 

"Breathe," was barely audible as a stripe was licked clean along his jaw. 

"Watch me," was breathed on another long swipe from the corner of his mouth to his cheekbone. 

In the brief seconds their eyes met, the intensity shining from Lister's gaze was endless. 

Rimmer's eyes fluttered closed as Lister leaned in, his lips gently pulling the tears from his eyelashes. "Just breathe." 

Lister was able to get one last swipe across his mouth, the tip of his tongue slipping between Rimmer's swollen lips in an almost-kiss, then his touch was gone. 

Rimmer didn't want to watch any more. He didn't want to feel any more. But he couldn't leave Lister to face the Emperor's sickness on his own. That Lister could have gone through that beating, then touched him with such care, gave Rimmer the strength to push through his suffering and not let it cripple him.

When he opened his eyes, Lister was once again on his knees with the Emperor at his back, one hand possessively curled around Lister's neck. "You looked to be enjoying that," the Emperor hissed dangerously. 

Lister was breathing deeply, his eyes apologetic but unashamed as he answered quietly, "Yes."

The Emperor's tone sent shivers down Rimmer's spine. "It was meant to be part of your punishment. How can it be punishment if you like it?" 

Rimmer found himself starting to match Lister's slow, controlled breaths, finding them calming. He saw Lister's concentration flicker for just an instant before Lister agreed, "Yes." 

Rimmer couldn't tell if Lister was even hearing the questions, or if every answer was expected to be an agreement no matter what the Emperor asked. "I'll just have to get more…creative…when disciplining you." 

It wasn't until Lister jerked slightly that Rimmer realized the Emperor wasn't just threatening him verbally, and Lister's final agreement was a strained, "Yes."

"It's time for your body to open for me," the Emperor growled before pulling Lister backward toward the edge of the bed, then tucking him forward until he was on his hands and knees again, facing Rimmer. 

Rimmer strained to get his body to lunge forward, but the only movement was a slight shift down the headboard, causing the collar around his throat to catch on something at the back of his neck. As it did, he felt his hand twitch. Hesitant to look down, he slowly moved his thumb – and he could feel it brushing against the outside of his leg. 

Relief washed over Rimmer at the same time the Emperor groaned, freezing him to the spot. "That's it, pet. Open up for me." 

He didn't breathe again until he realized the Emperor wasn't looking at him. 

Rimmer's eyes widened as he saw the phallic shaped – thing – in the Emperor's hand. It was thicker and twice as long as his own todger, widening grotesquely at the end the Emperor held, and it's pliable surface gleamed wetly. From the pinched expression on Lister's face, it was probably being pushed into…Rimmer's arse tightened involuntarily, and a small thrill went through him when he felt it respond, immediately replaced with revulsion at such a vulgar act. 

Rimmer winced, feeling a mixture of horror and unease as Lister's body slowly took more of the thinner section of the monstrosity. The Emperor was utterly transfixed by the dildo being swallowed by Lister's arse, gripping Lister's shoulder as he helped push it in deeper. 

Rimmer met Lister's gaze briefly, Lister sending him a helpless, agonized look before his eyes squeezed shut, his body rocking with the motions being set by the Emperor's hand. 

Hating to use Lister's suffering as a distraction but left with no choice and no time, Rimmer quickly reached up and felt around the back of his neck, fingertips touching the small device embedded in his skin. Taking a deep breath and holding it, he carefully removed the device, tears springing to his eyes at the incredible pain as it was dislodged. His body immediately came back online; an overwhelming symphony of bruises and aches and pains that had him biting his lip to keep from screaming. 

He turned the small square over in his hand, scraping a nail along the sharp dozen or so pins on one side. He had a flash of Cat's laughter and Lister being forced to slap his own face – the spinal implant from the Low ship. That implant had a remote control, this one must, too. His eyes fell to the table beside the bed and he saw a small box with dials and switches – that had to be it. 

At the Emperor's voice, Rimmer's eyes snapped to him, nausea churning his stomach. "You're getting soft, pet. You've taken much bigger." 

Despite his haggard expression and the sweat rolling off his skin to drip onto the bed, Lister's hips twisted and undulated with the effort to get the middle section into his body. Lister had only uttered soft grunts to that point, but now his exhales contained soft groans at the end as he braced his arms on the bed and spread his knees further apart. 

Rimmer stared at the Emperor's expression twisted in pornographic orgasmic bliss, his manic eyes, the cruel smile, the sheer pleasure he was getting out of abusing and degrading Lister, and felt anger bubbling up inside him. 

The Emperor sighed impatiently and pushed Lister almost flat on the bed, holding down his shoulder with one hand, the muscles standing out in the other as he pushed the dildo into Lister's upturned arse. "This isn't even the GELF model that makes you scream so beautifully."

Rimmer didn't pause to consider, he didn't think, he just _moved_. One hand pried at the collar around his throat as his other reached for the controller. He wheezed as his fingers touched the edge of the box, leaning hard to the right to get that extra inch to grasp it firmly in his hand. He managed to loosen the collar and hold onto the controller; his entire body trembling with excess adrenaline. A high-pitched wail had him quickly looking to their tormentor. 

The Emperor had contorted himself to lean over Lister, one knee on Lister's neck, one hand stretching Lister's arm out to the side. His other hand thrust the dildo in and out of Lister's arse in an imitation of what his real dick had done to Rimmer's mouth, Lister's cries muffled as his face was pressed into the mattress.

Anger tipped over into blind rage. Rimmer scooped up the implant and flung himself at the Emperor, shoving it into the middle of his spine while the other slammed onto the controller, flipping every switch to 'on'. 

The Emperor convulsed, arms flailing uselessly as he tried to reach the device embedded in his spinal column. Breathing hard, Rimmer ran the side of his hand along all the dials, turning them to maximum. The Emperor's screams were inhuman, his body twisting unnaturally as white light sparked all over his body. 

Abruptly, there was silence. Rimmer stared uncomprehending at the light bee that occupied the space where the Emperor had been. 

The Emperor had been a hologram. 

White noise buzzed in his head, his vision narrowing to the bee. 

_He'd killed the Emperor_. The remote tumbled out of his nerveless hand. 

Rimmer didn't hear the guards shouting. He barely felt the hands pulling him off the bed, but he heard with crystal clarity as the guard nearest to Lister started yelling for a doctor. 

The numbness fell away like a blanket as Rimmer's eyes locked on Lister's unmoving form. His throat was tight as he rasped, "Is he alive?" Rimmer pushed back against the guards who were trying to drag him out the door. "Is Lister alive? _What did that fucking bastard do to Lister_? Lister!" 

He kept screaming, " _Lister_!" as the guards dragged him to a cell, three people with a medical cart and stretcher rushing past them in the corridor. 

Rimmer banged on the locked door until his fist was bruised and bleeding, his stomach cramping and his eyes burning from tears. The room spun crazily around him and he couldn't draw a full breath. Lister's name was still on his lips as he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.


	3. Intervalon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several things happened to Dave Lister in his formative years that changed the course of his life. At age ten, Lister discovered the wonders of the male penis and the pleasure it could bring him. 
> 
> **WARNINGS for this chapter only** : Consensual Underage Sex (but it's canon that Lister first had sex at age 12), Spanking, Dom/sub, Mild S&M

Several things happened to Dave Lister in his formative years that changed the course of his life. 

At age ten, Lister discovered the wonders of the male penis and the pleasure it could bring him. 

At age twelve, Lister discovered the wonders of the female body and the pleasure he could give it. Michelle Fisher was seventeen, naked and glowing in the faint moonlight of the Bootle Municipal Golf Course. She pushed him onto her clothing in the bunker and rode him to his first non-solo orgasm. He immediately rolled her over and rutted into her again, worshipping her breasts and playing with the little nub just above her slit until she moaned and shook in his arms. 

Just a few short weeks after his twelfth birthday, his foster dad died and he was sent back to the Liverpool Home for Wayward Children, the only real home he'd ever known. 

He charmed his way into the panties of the older girls at the Home, his clever fingers and wicked mouth leaving them breathless and begging for more. Wary of being caught and fearful of pregnancy, he saved the condoms he traded for or stole for the girls who tugged on his dreads, the ones who held his face to their breasts or their pussy and _made him_ bring them off. 

He flirted his way into the beds of the older boys, loving to hear their low groans as he swallowed around their stiffies until they were spent. He was the one groaning when the more adventurous lads fumbled and pushed into his arsehole, their makeshift slick leaving them both slippery and sated. 

Lister loved girls. He loved boys. He loved _sex_. But something started happening to him that he didn't understand. When the girls clamped their thighs against his ears and arched against his mouth, he got harder. When the larger boys held him down on their beds, their bodies covered by the thin blankets as they rutted into him, he felt a rush of power unlike anything he'd ever experienced. 

When the Residential Manager found him with his head between the visiting social worker's spread thighs, it had been the last straw. A recruitment officer for the De Wallenwinkel Program was scheduled for the next day and Lister waited nervously to find out his fate. 

To his immense relief, Michelle Fisher was the recruitment officer sent to evaluate him and she approved his application with a saucy wink. His few belongings were stuffed into his tattered backpack as the shuttle took him to his new home, Red Light Fleet vessel the _Red Dwarf_. 

Run by the PIC out of Amsterdam, the RLF was a privately owned fleet of outmoded space ships that toured the solar system. In the backlash against Pleasure GELF production, humans were once again sought for pleasures of the flesh. The De Wallenwinkel Program provided a much-needed service to the outer planets, their moons, and in future, the Alpha Centauri colonies, but sex wasn't the only commodity on board. Medical supplies, seeds, raw materials and news were carried from port to port, along with vids, games and other forms of recreation. It was an entirely voluntary program, but in special cases, such as Lister's, an applicant was given a scholarship to fund their passage. 

Not just a brothel in space, the RLF provided one of the best educations off-world, requiring advanced degrees of all their crew. Those who were under 17 standard Earth years of age were obligated to attend school five days a week. Those who had previously not gone to university were allowed to pursue any line of study that interested them. High marks were encouraged with earned time on the pleasure decks, where the crew could interact with one another and enjoy a different sort of education. 

Lister had never been much for school, but the promise of learning more about sex was too great and he buckled down, studying most evenings in the common area on his deck. He did well in most subjects, but he had no interest in history and his marks showed it. 

He'd been assigned quarters with Yvonne McGruder, the next youngest recruit on board at 16. He envied her ability to recall the tiniest details of whatever she'd seen; she called it an eidetic memory. She had passed her A Levels and was already enrolled in the cartography degree program, while he continued to struggle with literature and history. 

It was a Thursday when his history teacher asked him to her office after class. He clutched his exam with '4/20' in glaring red emblazoned in the corner as he sat outside her door, waiting nervously. It was the first time she'd wanted to speak to him in private, rather than right after class. The rules were so different on the ship that he didn't know what to expect. Could they kick him out of the program? Would he be sent to Mars, then back to Earth? So far the only consequence he'd suffered for not getting good marks while on _Red Dwarf_ was to be denied time in the Play Room. 

His eyes closed as he remembered the few times he'd been allowed in. Eyes opened in more ways than one, that was when he'd learned that objects could be just as tantalizing, just as seductive, as hands or fingers or a tongue. Since he was all of twelve with his knobby knees and baby face, the blokes shied away from him. 

But the girls – no matter their age – were all too happy to have him on his back with his knees tucked up to his chest as they pegged him, as they called it, with their fake strapped on dicks. Or secured him to one of the beds with padded cuffs so they could tease him with feathers, drip hot wax on his chest, circle his nipples with ice, ease a cock ring around his erection, stick a buttplug up his bum, pull his hair, scratch him, bite him, gag him, blindfold him...he groaned and adjusted his boner. Not that it would be amiss on this ship, but Lister wasn't comfortable going into his professor's office with his rather large endowment tenting his trousers. 

When he was finally summoned, he shuffled into his professor's office with his books in front of his crotch and his head down, so he didn't see the other bloke at first. But he heard him. 

"You said he was young – you didn't tell me he was a _child_ ," was hissed, and Lister's head snapped up. 

And forgot how to breathe. 

Sitting in the chair opposite his professor was the most gorgeous creature he'd ever seen. Flyaway curly hair, high cheekbones, sculpted lips and _eyes_. Fierce, commanding, seductive hazel eyes with flecks of green and gold that he promptly lost himself in. 

His professor droned on about Lister's circumstance for being on the ship and how physical age didn't always equate to mental or emotional age. Lister felt his lips part as he stared into those hypnotizing depths, his heart thumping madly as his body finally remembered to inhale. He sank into the chair next to Gorgeous, barely hearing his professor explain that this was to be his tutor. The only words he heard clearly were _Arnold Rimmer_. 

Rimmer flicked a quick glance down his body, an eyebrow rising knowingly at Lister's now aching erection. Unashamed, Lister spread his thighs a bit, easing the tightness. "I'm Dave Lister," he introduced himself, and while his voice was smooth and confident in his head, it sounded breathless when spoken aloud. 

A smile that was just shy of a smirk pulled those lips wide, sending Lister's heart into a fluttering meltdown. "Arnold Rimmer. I'm to be your history tutor, then."

Movement dragged Lister's eyes away from Rimmer's mouth and down to his long, elegant fingers held out for a handshake. Lister grasped the cool hand, internally cringing at the sweat he could feel on his palm. "Sorry," he muttered and quickly snatched his hand back. He was a mess of nerves, not knowing how to handle his instant, overpowering attraction to a guy he just met. What was it about Rimmer that made his teeth ache to kiss him? He vowed then and there to find out. 

If Rimmer's life had been an exam, he would have gotten full marks: Arnold Judas Rimmer, just turned 17, had been on _Red Dwarf_ for two years. The youngest of four brothers born on Io, he was the only one not to join up with the Space Corps. He had a passion for history, specifically the military strategies of the greatest generals, and for art. He modestly described himself as a competent artist, but the drawings Lister had seen captured his subjects amazingly well. 

Lister's study of Rimmer's life made those first few tutoring lessons torture. He was supposed to be learning history, but whenever Rimmer talked about Julius Caesar, Lister ended up picturing _him_ in the purple and gold toga and completely failed to recall anything about Caesar's death. The Napoleonic Wars, Alexander the Great, Ancient Egypt…the details faded as Lister drank in Rimmer's passionate speeches, his hands making grand, sweeping motions through the air as he described a great battle. 

Rimmer's calm nature was nowhere to be found as he stared pointedly at the notebook in front of Lister. "You've not taken any notes. I'd wager you've barely heard a word I've said." 

Lister dropped his gaze to the empty page, feeling younger than his twelve years as he shrugged, unable to say a word in his defense. Despite revising with Rimmer for two weeks, his marks hadn't improved and it was only a matter of time before his professor noticed. 

Rimmer's voice took on a hard edge, the tone doing something strange to Lister's insides as he barked, "Do you want to fail?" 

"No," he whined petulantly as he toyed with his pen. He felt Rimmer's heavy gaze on him, but refused to look up. He knew he'd disappointed Rimmer but he couldn't help it – every night he wanked to thoughts of Rimmer's mouth on his dick, and every daydreamed fantasy revolved around Rimmer's large hands and long fingers. How could he concentrate on dead people and dead civilizations when he had a very alive, very gorgeous lad not two feet from him? 

Rimmer's tone was quiet as he asked, "Do you want another tutor?"

Startled eyes flew to hazel ones as Lister cried, " _No_!"

He breathed heavily as Rimmer studied him, one long finger tapping against his pursed lips. "I believe the problem," his tutor stated, "Is that you haven't been disciplined." 

Lister scowled and slumped down in his chair. "'Course I have. Scraping gum off the undersides of desks after school or picking up spitballs…" He lost his train of thought as Rimmer pierced him with a stern glare, an undertone of sexual energy settling low in Lister's gut. 

He was mesmerized by the authority that rang in Rimmer's voice as he asked, "I assume you've been to the Play Room. What have you participated in?"

He answered without thinking, lost in the desire that was lurking in Rimmer's eyes. "Gags and blindfolds, handcuffs, ice, wax, feathers, nipple clamps, dildos, buggered by a few girls. The guys don't want to teach me anything." 

Rimmer's voice seemed to get deeper and his stare more intense. "Have you ever been slapped?"

A thrill danced along Lister's nerve endings as he imagined the impact against his skin. He licked his lips, his cock starting to fill as Rimmer's eyes followed his tongue's path. "No," he answered with a trembling voice. 

That desire flared to life and Lister felt it like a physical touch that left him shaking. "Spanked?"

"No," he breathed as he grew hot all over, trying to get a read on Rimmer and completely failing. It was as if Rimmer had shut down all the extra stuff to focus on one thing – _him_.

The easy-going confidence slipped into something darker as Rimmer stood and moved his chair to the middle of the room. When he sat back down, sitting primly with his knees together, there was a hunger in his eyes as he ordered, "Come here." 

Lister obeyed without question. He stood in front of Rimmer, his cock half-hard and the tingle of anticipation singing in his veins. He gasped as he was yanked forward by his hips, catching himself with his hands on Rimmer's shoulders, staring down into the predatory gaze. 

His gaze dropped to Rimmer's mouth, groaning softly as that quick tongue darted out to lick the lower lip. Rimmer's voice wasn't quite as demanding as his hands as he asked, "Do you need to be disciplined?" 

"Yes," Lister begged, lowering his mouth until he was finally, finally kissing the lips that had been the focus of so many of his early morning fantasies. Softer than he expected, firm and strong, leading into the warm, slick tongue and a needy whine at the back of his throat. He lost himself to the kiss, pressing deeper and harder to learn all there was of Arnold Rimmer. 

Lister didn't notice his trousers around his ankles or the brush of his too-big shirt on his bare thighs. Not until the first slap to his ass, then he pulled back with a yelp and attempted to rub at his stinging skin. His hand was stopped by Rimmer's fingers wrapping around his wrist. 

The air was charged with something dangerous as Rimmer pinned him with a look, but his actual hold wasn't tight, just firm. Just to let Lister know who was in charge. Lister felt his legs go weak and he let Rimmer pull him across his lap, let him arrange his limbs and body where he wanted them, moaning with each touch. 

His heavy erection was pressed firmly against Rimmer's right thigh as his shirt was rucked up to his neck, exposing his bare back, ass and thighs to the warm air. He gasped out a needy moan as the length of Rimmer's arm laid across his back and a hand curved securely over his hip. 

Dizzy with the need to come, Lister started to squirm to get some friction. His body jerked, then stilled, as a palm cracked across the back of his upper thigh. Before that sting faded, another smack landed just above it, directly on his right cheek. He groaned, gripping the chair legs tightly as he arched up on his toes into the next swat. 

Rimmer set a steady rhythm, Lister's sharp gasps and exhaled moans following each blow. The blood that wasn't rushing to his head was being drawn to his smarting, burning ass, yet he still pushed up with his toes, _needing_ it. Tears stung his eyes as Rimmer's swings grew more forceful, the friction against his cock increasing even as Rimmer threw his full weight into holding Lister down. 

It was all too much. Lister felt his body tighten up and he was coming, crying and shouting at the release of pressure. 

He was pulled up into strong arms and kissed deeply, desperately, the burning pain of his ass secondary to the need he could feel burning through Rimmer. 

He stuck his hands into Rimmer's back pockets, locating a condom and a packet of slick in the left one. He swallowed the desperate sound Rimmer made as he quickly undid his button and zip, hand wrapping firmly around the leaking erection. Lister slid to his knees, loving the sound Rimmer made as he sucked the tip of the condom into his mouth and pushed it down the shaft, moaning as he felt Rimmer's hands grip his head and press down harder. He worked his mouth up and down a few times until he was forcibly pulled off and manhandled to stand between Rimmer's spread thighs, facing away from him. 

He leaned forward slightly at the touch between his shoulder blades, biting his lip against the pain as he reached back and held his cheeks open. "Gorgeous," Rimmer breathed as his fingers traced down Lister's spine, then swept back up to grasp his shoulder. 

Lister yelped as he felt cool, slick fingers slide into him, then groaned as Rimmer's hand tightened on his shoulder, holding him in place. He shifted his balance as he was pushed down and pulled back, whimpering as he felt Rimmer's cock pushing into him. 

Hands gripped his hips as his legs gave out, easing his body down until his back rested on Rimmer's chest. He lost himself in the slap of Rimmer's skin against his overheated ass, feeling like he was being spanked all over again. He fisted his half-hard cock, driving himself to another orgasm as Rimmer thrust helplessly into him, lost in his own orgasm. Lister was held in a vice-like grip, Rimmer's arms tight around his chest, head buried in his shoulder as Lister dribbled over his hand a second time. 

Breathing heavily, air heavy with sex, Lister felt gentle caresses against the side of his neck: Rimmer's lips brushing his skin. "You're amazing," Rimmer muttered incredulously. "How old are you again?" 

Lister let out a satisfied hum, his muscles as warm as his ass. "I'll be thirteen next month." 

A hand rubbed his thighs, smearing his mess into his skin. Lister moaning lightly, arching into the touch as Rimmer rubbed fingertips along his sensitive balls. "Smegging hell. You're a natural." 

He snorted softly. "A cocksucker? Yeah, been called that a few times."

His head was gently turned until Rimmer could look into his eyes. "A submissive." 

From that point on, Lister had no trouble remembering his history lessons, as Rimmer's hand imprinted them onto his skin. After each lesson, when Lister could recite back what Rimmer had taught him, Lister lay across the bed or table, and Rimmer rewarded him with his mouth and tongue and fingers and cock. Finally, just before he left, Rimmer rubbed soothing lotion into his reddened skin, the coolness shocking after such heat. 

Lister still had trouble sitting through his classes the rest of the day, but it was more a dulled reminder. He deliberately sat himself down at the table to revise in the evening, shifting his hips whenever he felt his attention wandering from his studies. He didn't know how Rimmer knew it was what he needed to focus, but he often bit his tongue after a spanking, holding back the _thank you_ that wanted to escape.

=-=-=-=-=

On his thirteenth birthday, Lister was the center of attention on the pleasure deck. After he had been thoroughly wished a happy birthday, he was sore, bruised, stretched, aching, splattered with come, his face smeared with bodily fluids, and he fell into a exhausted sleep with a smile on his face. 

Even though he was a registered crew member, he wasn't allowed to take a client until he'd completed his core studies. He wasn't even allowed off ship at their ports of call, instead restricted to his room while clients met with the crew and terms of service were discussed. 

It wasn't the rule itself he despised so much as the isolation for days at a time. He was social; he needed to be around people. He needed social interaction as much as he needed food, water and sex. He acted like a petulant teenager whenever they parked in orbit around a moon, though when they departed it sometimes meant new recruits, which meant new experiences. 

Lister preferred the long stretches between ports, when he could indulge his fantasies with Frank, Carole, Olaf, Kris, George, John, Evie…and Arnold. With his marks up, he could spend more time in the Play Room and he took full advantage. 

With the older lads now noticing him, he was learning about the more intense, advanced sexual fantasies. The first time a flogger touched his skin, it was a loving caress and a knife to the gut. He used his safeword for the first time and walked away before he flew apart at the seams. It wasn’t that it hurt; it was that it touched a part of him that was scared of what it would unleash. 

Since the first time Arnold spanked him, he'd felt a restlessness that he couldn't put into words. He only knew that when Arnold was around, it settled. When Arnold touched him, it transported him to another state of being that he only experienced at the height of climax. It worried and excited him but he kept it to himself, not sure what Arnold's reaction would be. 

Relationships between the crew members were strongly discouraged, but not forbidden. They were there to use each other to further their sexual education, not to fall in love. But emotional bonds were created and jealousy did occur, as Lister found out when he walked through the pleasure deck one day and saw Yvonne riding Arnold like he was a smegging stud horse. He stopped to watch, taking in her strong thighs and perky ass as she bounced up and down on Arnold's cock. Arnold was gripping her ass so tight Lister could see the indentations from halfway across the room, his curt repetitions of _Smeg_ letting Lister know he was close. 

The restlessness that was usually tamed by being near Arnold exploded into a bottomless pit of _need_ as he witnessed Yvonne going from being in control to being controlled. Her frantic movements stopped as Arnold crossed her arms at the small of her back and rolled them over in one smooth motion, effortlessly pinning Yvonne beneath him. 

At that moment, Lister would have done anything, said anything, been anything, to have that strong forearm pressing down on his upper chest. To have Arnold's weight holding him down, squeezing the air out of his lungs and the will out of his limbs. To have Arnold's low voice in his ear, whispering filthy, sexy obscenities as his body was driven to dizzying heights of pleasure. 

His whole body shaking, Lister fled to his quarters, locking himself in and huddling on his bed. It took every bit of self-control he had not to run back to the Play Room and demand to be strapped into the St. Andrew's Cross and whipped until he passed out from the pain. 

He faked being asleep when Yvonne returned to their quarters later that night, all trace of Arnold carefully scrubbed from her sweet-smelling body. Unable to face her or anyone else, he stayed in bed through his morning classes, only stirring when he heard Arnold calling his name through the door. 

"Unlock," he called in a strained voice, his breath hitching as he tried not to cry at the concern and anxiety on Arnold's face. 

He let the tears fall as Arnold swept him up in his strong arms, cradling him and shushing him as he trembled violently. "What's ha-happening to me?" he choked out. "Why do I feel like this?" His eyes closed in relief as Arnold's hand rested at the back of his neck. He clasped his arms tighter around Arnold's shoulders and let out a shaky sigh. 

Arnold's comforting tone rumbled through him, calming the restlessness. "What is it you're feeling, Dave? Describe it to me." 

He kept his arms around Arnold's neck as he fumbled through his explanations, trying to describe his whispered feelings and strange half-thoughts. 

When he ran out of words, Arnold's hand cupped his face and tilted his head up. His eyes were soft with understanding, sympathetic and caring as he offered a small smile. "The first time I spanked you, I said you were a natural submissive. You've been on this ship almost two years now, giving and receiving pleasure. It's more intense with some people, lighthearted and fun with others. The most intense are when you have no control, when you're forced to your knees or you're held down and _made_ to do something." 

Arnold's hand tightened briefly on his neck and he breathed a satisfied moan through his parted lips, his tense muscles instantly relaxing. "Beautiful," was muttered against his lips as Lister was kissed softly. 

Arnold's slightly out-of-focus gaze sharpened as he stared deep into his eyes. "You're feeling lost because while your heart knows what it needs, your mind hasn't caught up quite yet. You're looking for someone who will push you past every comfort zone you have, every barrier your mind constructs, until the only response you can offer up is your entire body, mind and soul." 

The words crashed into him like a hand against his skin and the room around him disappeared. He teetered at the edge of a cliff in his mind, a vast wasteland behind him, the bottomless pit of need in front. Fear clawed its way up his throat, threatening to close off his airway and he looked helplessly into Arnold's eyes.

A sound of denial choked him; no longer compassionate and understanding, Arnold's gaze was closed off, emotionally withdrawing from him. "You should never have been allowed on this ship. Someone with your talents needs to be grounded, needs to be controlled by one person, not left to suffer at the hands of a different client at every port."

Tears stung Lister's eyes as his head shook back and forth, his voice small and weak as he begged, "Please." A flicker of emotion passed over Arnold's features, too fleeting to be seen, but Lister _felt_ it. Taking a leap of faith, Lister fell into the bottomless pit as he brought their mouths together, clawing at Arnold's clothes as tears slipped down his face. 

"You," Lister breathed between kisses. "I need you. I _want_ _you_." Arnold didn't stop him, but he didn't help as Lister stripped him and shoved him down onto the bed, straddling Arnold's waist as he plundered his mouth. "I've been so afraid of what I feel when you touch me," he admitted tearfully. "When you spank me, it's like you're waking up some deep place inside of me that no one has ever touched. When you fuck me, it's like there's never been anyone else, ever. Just you." He paused with his mouth hovering just above Arnold's, their breathing loud in the quiet of the room. "I dream of you holding me down, not letting me move. I fantasize about you splitting me open with that gorgeous cock, pressing my face into the mattress until I can't breathe…" 

He sat back at the slap across his face, momentarily stunned. The only sound was their harsh breaths, Arnold's eyes no longer distant. They shone with power and lust and control, and Lister groaned as the sting from the slap slowly flowed into his body, hardening his cock. His voice was barely above a whisper as he said, "I want to feel the imprint of your hand on my ass every time I sit down, reminding me who it belongs to." He held Arnold's gaze as his cheek was slapped again, his cock bouncing and thickening with the rush of blood in his veins. 

He shifted down the bed, his chin bumping the head of Arnold's erection before he licked up the underside and sucked on the crown. He stared up at Arnold, whose eyes were nearly black with desire, and declared softly, "Oh happy dagger, this is thy sheath. As Hephaestion was to Alexander, as Patroclus was to Achilles, as Antinous was to Hadrian, I belong to you." His flawless recollection of his lessons was rewarded with a low growl and Arnold's cock abusing his mouth. He hummed around the length as it pushed into his throat, the pitch rising with need as his head was held with his lips against the base, tears leaking from his eyes as he finally allowed himself to _give in_. He opened his mouth wider to wiggle his tongue, a wave of contentment sweeping through him as he heard Arnold groan and felt him thicken in his throat. He swallowed and felt Arnold's hot release slide down his throat, slowly pulling off while licking and sucking him clean. 

It wasn't until his head was tilted up that he saw the shattered expression on Arnold's face. A wretched, horrible pain started at the center of his chest, and it took everything left inside of him not to collapse in a heap of confusion and helplessness. At the touch of gentle fingers to his cheek, he drew in a sobbing breath, relief that he hadn't been rejected overwhelming him. 

Arnold's features slowly transformed into a reverent awe. "I never thought I'd…you search for someone who completes…You're perfect." They stared at one another in silent anticipation, until Lister was dragged up and kissed, though kiss was too simple a word. He was worshipped, owned, respected, thanked, blessed, broken apart and put back together again. 

There were tears in Arnold's eyes as he touched their foreheads together, the cocoon of heat making Lister lightheaded. "You are perfect," Arnold repeated, astonishment in his breathless declaration. "If we do this, there's no going back. It's not something that we can walk away from and ever be whole again." He saw Arnold's throat flex as he swallowed. " _I_ would never be whole again. And you." Lister shivered at the touch to the back of his neck. "You would be shattered beyond recognition. Not because of your young age, but because of your instinct. You want to give yourself completely to someone. You need that deep connection, that intimate bond of souls touching." 

When Arnold kissed him this time, it filled him with power he'd only tasted hints of before. When Lister's hands slid along Arnold's shoulders, the touch was electric, skin coming alive beneath his fingers. 

When Arnold murmured, "You're mine," against his lips, his universe righted itself and everything became achingly, simply clear:

"I'm yours."

Arnold tied him to the bed and brought him to the edge of climax again and again, his skin on fire and aching and the need so strong he was begging, screaming, pleading to be allowed to come. 

But Arnold knew what he needed and his pleas went unanswered for hours as he was teased, caressed; _loved_ , more deeply than he ever thought possible. 

Beyond all rational thought, his body vibrating to the tune that Arnold set, muscles weak from his constant struggles, it was a gently blown breath across the tip of his erection that carried the words he needed to hear: "Come for me."

It was the longest, most intense, electrifying orgasm he'd ever experienced, and every single atom in his body shared in the ecstasy. His skin became hypersensitive to the warm air, the damp sheets beneath him, the tight cloth around his wrists and ankles, but he didn't cry out until the whorls of beloved fingertips ran up his arm. 

"You are the most precious, exquisite creature in the whole of the universe," Arnold recounted as he gently released his bonds. "To watch you succumb, savouring every last drop of pleasure as it ravaged your body, is the greatest honor I have ever been given." As Lister sat up, Arnold pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss. 

As he was tucked up against Arnold's chest and enfolded in those strong arms, the agony of the friction against his skin rolled through him. His arms automatically came up to wrap around Arnold's waist, hugging him closer until he felt as if his skin was melting. He buried his face in Arnold's neck, sucking gently at the sweat on his skin before uttering the words he'd longed to express: "Thank you." 

=-=-=-=-=

On Arnold's twenty-first birthday, Lister joined in the celebration on the pleasure deck. It was only later, when Arnold used his new keycard to unlock his new single quarters to reveal his new full size bed, that Lister truly celebrated the day that Arnold was born. 

Gasping for breath beneath the weight of his lover, face half-pressed into the mattress, Lister felt Arnold's arms tighten around him. "What's wrong?" he asked. 

Lister's eyes closed at the press of lips against his shoulder. "You'll be sixteen in a few weeks. I'll have to share you with the universe." 

"You share me now with the rest of the crew," Lister reminded him gently, though he knew how strongly Arnold felt about others touching him. It was a constant source of irritation for both of them, wanting to belong to one person but unable because of their occupations. "And it's not the whole universe, just the outer planets' moons." 

He smiled as he felt Arnold's annoyed rumble against his skin. "Jupiter alone has _thirty-seven_ inhabited moons. That's thirty-seven chances of some smegging idiot wanting to dominate you, and that's not even counting the other hundred or so moons around Saturn, Uranus and Neptune." 

He stretched his arm back to bury his fingers in Arnold's hair, twisting halfway around to press a kiss to the corner of Arnold's mouth. "They can do whatever they like to my body, but they can never touch my soul. It belongs to you." 

He caught the feral look in Arnold's eyes before his head was forced down onto the mattress, his limp muscles relaxing even further as Arnold's voice hissed in his ear, "I ought to flog you for suggesting that anyone else can do what they like to your body."

He remained pliant as Arnold arranged his limbs, placing his arms alongside his torso before spreading his thighs. "I should force a butt-plug up your sweet ass and make you clean my quarters with your tongue." 

The words penetrated Lister's haze and he flushed with heat, but not from embarrassment. He held his tongue as he felt Arnold's cock push into his stretched ass for the third time that night, tears of pain and joy stinging his eyes. Lister's mouth fell open on a silent scream as Arnold slowly, teasingly thrust into him, just the tiniest of movements that scraped along his nerve endings. 

A groan was choked off as Arnold's legs pushed his closed, trapping Lister between his thighs. A whimper stuck in his throat as Arnold slowly stretched out on top of him, then tucked his elbows against Lister's arms; covering almost his entire body. Lister couldn't move, he could barely breathe, surrounded and smothered by Arnold. He felt himself slip deeper into that special place that allowed him to be whatever Arnold needed him to be. He let himself be swept away on the lustful currents of Arnold's thrusts and his litany of oaths, swearing to dismember anyone who hurt him, threatening to beat him within an inch of his life if Lister let anyone else do this to him, promising to fuck him unconscious after every client session to erase their stench from his body. 

Lister was incoherent with lust, tears blinding him as Arnold chanted his name like a benediction. "I want you to come without me touching you. I want you to come from the sound of my voice. I want you to come from my cock emptying inside you." 

It should have been impossible in his position, but Lister was incapable of disobeying an order from Arnold. When the thrusts grew harder and Arnold pulled his arms and legs in tighter, Lister drew in a ragged breath and squeezed his eyes shut. He focused inward, drawing on his reserved strength as the thrusts became erratic. 

Arnold's voice cracked as he shouted, " _Smeg_ ," and Lister felt his body respond automatically. A low, pained groan accompanied the intense pulses, his head swimming with lack of oxygen and the strain his body was under. He wept silently, wanting to thank Arnold for giving him such an incredible experience but any words he uttered wouldn't be able to convey the depth of what they'd just shared. 

As he was released from the human cage surrounding him and carefully rolled over, he found he didn’t have to say a word. Arnold looked as shaken as he felt, his expression filled with adoration and pride. "I love you so smegging much," was murmured into his mouth as he was kissed, the next hour spent in a different sort of worship of his body. 

Arnold slipped into the bath behind him, the healing bath salts and lavender easing Lister's sore muscles and soothing the tender spots. He sighed as Arnold washed him carefully, gentle massages of his hands, arms, back and neck relaxing him into an almost trance-like state. His body was patted dry, then a healing balm applied to the most tender areas where Arnold's teeth had bit too hard or his hand had gripped too tightly. Ordinarily, Lister hated to see the marks fade by morning, preferring to wear them as a reminder of how loved he was. But they were to dock the next day at Proteus and the clients liked them unmarked; the illusion that they were the only ones to touch them had to be maintained.

He focused on Arnold, kneeling at his feet as the balm was applied to the fading rope burn around his left ankle. He slid his fingers into Arnold's unruly curls, waiting until those hazel eyes met his. "You're the one. You're the _only_ one. No matter who uses this body, I will only ever love you."


	4. Neniu Venko Situacio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is set after Chapter 3, continuing Lister's backstory. It details the most important three years of his life with Arnold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly. —F. Scott Fitzgerald

"You are the other half of my soul. In all of creation, no one has loved someone as much as I love you. I will die without you, Arnold Judas Rimmer." Lister's soft declaration echoed in the silence of the small alcove off the main surgery. 

When Lister had signed up with the De Wallenwinkel Program, he was warned of the dangers of space, but as a randy young lad of twelve, he hadn't cared. 

Staring at the medical stasis pod that housed his critically injured lover of fourteen and a half years, the 27-year-old man could think of nothing else. "Don't leave me, Arnold," Lister murmured as he pressed his forehead against the cold metal. 

The GELF attack had been unprovoked, coming just as _Red Dwarf_   was swinging far outside Pluto's path on a return course toward the inner planets. With more moons passing laws banning Pleasure GELFs, the genetically engineered life forms took their revenge on any RLF ship that crossed their path. _Red Dwarf_   had been a perfect target: holes had been blasted through its midsection by the GELF's Simulant-enhanced weapons, easily breaking through their meager shields. 

Ignorant of the battle about to happen, he and Arnold had been tidying up their room, Lister having moved into Arnold's quarters on his eighteenth birthday. Arnold had tossed a cleaning rag at him, giggling as it accidentally slapped Lister in the face. Spluttering with mock indignation, Lister had retaliated by swiping a handful of soap suds from his cleaning bucket and smearing them in Arnold's hair. Swept up in Arnold's laughing kiss, they'd only had a few seconds' warning before the first missiles had hit the ship. 

Tears slipped down Lister's cheeks. Their quarters had been destroyed, along with half the habitation deck. Some sort of chain reaction; he hadn't cared to hear about it. He'd experienced it first hand, with the wall exploding behind Arnold and the heat and the noise. He hadn't even felt his own injuries, he'd only seen Arnold's bloody arm beneath what used to be their table and he'd clawed his way through the heated, twisted metal to get to him. He'd wiped the blood from Arnold's face but it kept coming back again and again and…

Lister lifted one bandaged hand to rest it on the stasis pod, though he couldn't feel the cold through the thick layers. "I won't give up on you, love. Don't leave me," he repeated on a desperate whisper, his voice sounding flat and hollow to his ears.

=-=-=-=-=

The world was moving on without him, Lister knew, but he didn't care. _His_ world had sustained a severe skull fracture, a broken jaw, multiple broken bones down his left side, five shattered ribs; a punctured lung…there were more but Lister couldn't be arsed to remember. 

It had only been a week since the attack, yet it felt like his skin was stretched too tight and he didn't think he'd ever take a deep breath again. The air tasted stale and all he saw were grays and blacks, muted colors to match his dulled senses. 

The broken bones would heal. Arnold's brain would not. 

Doctor Hernandez had kept her impassive doctor mask in place as she detailed Arnold's full prognosis and it set Lister's teeth on edge. He didn't want to learn what a _depressed skull fracture_ was, or an _intracranial hematoma_ , or how it affected the _frontal lobe_ or how even the best neurosurgeon on Triton couldn't remove the _embedded bits of Arnold's skull from his gray matter_. 

He didn't want to hear the list of permanent injuries. He didn't want to watch Arnold relearn to speak, walk or use his fingers to pick up a smegging foam ball. He didn't want to teach Arnold the names of everyday objects like plate, bed, shirt, hair or _Dave_. 

And even if Lister did all that, even if he was patient and understanding and loving, in eight months to a year, Arnold _might_ be able to wrap an arm around his shoulders. _Might_ be able to kiss him. _Might_ remember what they meant to each other, what they used to share and might resent his damaged mind. Resent the limitations and memory loss and inability to express what Arnold used to say with just a look. 

But Maria had only given Arnold a two to five percent chance of that level of recovery. The probable scenario, the nearly one hundred percent outcome, was that one of the bits of Arnold's skull would sink deeper into his brain and kill him slowly over the span of a few weeks, a few months, or kill him instantaneously. 

Maria graced him with a sympathetic look and urged him to speak with Karyn before she left him alone with the crippling burden of responsibility. How could he decide what life – or death – to give Arnold? They'd never talked about it and why would they? Arnold was only _thirty-two years old_ ! Whatever Lister chose, he faced the death of the man he'd loved for more than half his life. 

A hollow, pained laugh forced itself out of his chest. As if any of the scenarios Maria had laid out were a _choice_. He had no control over what happened when Arnold was released from stasis: he would die immediately or slowly, the difference was how drawn-out and agonizing the process. The only _choice_ Lister felt he had was to leave Arnold in stasis, cutting him off from all life and leaving Lister ghostwalking through what remained of his. 

Lister wanted to rage at the universe. He wanted a miracle. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to wake up from the nightmare that had become his life. He buried his face in his newly-healed palms and tried to breathe through the increasing weight crushing his chest. 

He didn't think he had any tears left, but he felt them burn his eyes and tasted the salt on his lips as he angrily wiped them away. Fourteen years together wasn't enough. A _hundred_ and fourteen years wouldn’t be enough. They should be arguing about what program to watch on ship's vid, or who was the blanket hog, or whether Classic football was better than Zero Gee football. Lister shouldn’t be staring at his non-event-mass lover through the window of a stasis pod, acting and feeling like a widower in mourning.

=-=-=-=-=

Guilt gnawed at Lister late at night, when he lay awake in the small cot Maria had placed in the alcove so he could be nearer to Arnold. As angry and heartbroken and lost as he felt, Arnold had not been the only victim of the attack. Dozens had been injured, seven critically, and of those seven, four were still in Medibay recovering. Then there were the casualties: Zared, one of the new recruits from Larissa that he'd barely gotten to know; MacKenzie, one of the ship's engineers; and Ila. Beautiful, 20-year-old Ila whose smile made you smile. 

While the crew mourned the loss of their friends, Lister remained secluded away with Arnold, barely acknowledging those who stopped by. _Arnold isn't dead_ , he wanted to scream at their pitying looks and their offers of sympathy. Instead, he merely nodded when their gentle touches and low murmurings stopped, ignoring those who urged him to attend the memorial service for the others. Out of the hundreds of crew members, his absence from the service wouldn't be noticed. 

His stomach plummeted when the only other person on board who could manipulate him slipped into the alcove with his suit folded over her arm. "Please, Yvonne," he begged, though he knew it was pointless. He sighed wearily at the determined look on Yvonne McGruder's face; he'd seen it often enough to know she would not let him cower away. 

Yvonne sat down next to him and rubbed her hand along the back of his neck; Lister shuddered and took a deep breath for the first time in days. "You need a break from watching over him," she announced, then added in a quieter voice, "Arnold will be furious when he finds out you refused to pay your respects." 

"I'm not!" he blurted out as he shook off her hand in irritation. On his anger came embarrassment; she'd deliberately said that to wake him from his lethargy. He conceded defeat and laid his head on her shoulder. "Smeg. Are you sure you're not a Domme in disguise?" he asked, not for the first time. 

She chuckled softly, as she always did at his accusation. "Not when I'm with you and Arnold," she assured him as she brought her hand up to rest on his head, just over where his stitches had been. 

He felt warm and safe, her familiar smell triggering memories of being inside her while Arnold was buried inside him. Lister could hardly remember a time when he'd been jealous of Yvonne. She alone had been invited into their sanctuary; her strong personality and quick mind and Arnold's love for her easing the way for Lister to love her, too. 

Because he loved her; because he trusted her, he voiced his fear. "I'm afraid they'll –" he started, then cleared his too-tight throat. He was fourteen years old again, lost and scared of his strange feelings. "I don't want to answer any more questions about Arnold." 

He moaned as Yvonne tightened her hold on him, feeling his strung-too-tight muscles start to relax. "They'll understand that you're not ready. If not, I'll knock them on their asses. I didn't get the championship belt for my ability to make a guy come in three minutes using only a feather," she declared. "That's what I got the plaque for." 

It felt wrong to laugh, but Lister couldn't help himself. Properly chastised for feeling sorry for himself and feeling more lighthearted, he pulled out of her embrace and sat up straight. "Thanks, love. Let's get this over with." 

She helped him dress as his limbs were still stiff from his injuries, then walked with him to the memorial being held in the mess hall to accommodate the crew. Lister couldn't see the platform beyond the sea of humanity, but the captain and his officers were projected on large screens hanging from the ceiling. The captain's heartfelt words faded to background noise as Lister couldn't stop staring at the three small canisters that held the remains of Anne MacKenzie, Zared Hoyt and Ila Detrynova. 

As the service stretched on, his restlessness grew. He itched all over: newly healed skin from burns and stitches and the Half Windsor knot around his neck. He'd worn leather collars that had more give, when he realized it wasn't the tightness of the knot; it was his chest that was constricted. 

His vision narrowed as the Captain pronounced, "And now we commend the ashes of Anne, Zared and Ila to the stars. From the stars we are born, to the stars we return. Safe journey, my friends." 

With each _thwish_ of the canisters being ejected into space, Lister flinched. 

As the solemn crowd began to murmur and stir, Lister staggered out of the mess hall, Yvonne trailing a step behind. He ripped the offending tie from around his neck and undid three buttons in rapid succession, but he still couldn't breathe. He flung off the jacket and had started to undo the rest of his shirt buttons when a sharp slap across his cheek staved off his rising panic. 

He looked up at Yvonne's pinched, closed-off expression, but her eyes were knowing and calm and focused. His heart lifted and he begged, "Smeg yes, _please_." 

She retrieved his jacket and tie before clamping her hand around his upper arm and guiding him down the corridor. He went eagerly, willingly, _desperately_ , needing to find his center of calm. 

He was so on edge even Yvonne's apologetic, "New quarters; sorry about the mess," didn't stop the hum of his body's anticipation of what was to come. She crowded him against the closed door, and though they were of a similar height, she seemed to loom over him. Her fingertips lightly stroked along his jaw, down the side of his neck until they rested at his pulsepoint. "Safeword?" she prompted. 

"Vindaloo," he replied automatically. A thrill went through him as her hand closed loosely around his throat. 

"Ask what my safeword is," she commanded softly. 

He knew her safeword as well as his and Arnold's, and without thinking, answered, "Boxing." 

She put weight behind her slap this time and he gasped as his body came alive. Not for nothing she'd been crowned ship's female boxing champion eight years running. "What's your safeword?" he amended, but he was already being pulled over to the bed by the back of his neck. 

She'd barely gotten out the order, "Strip," before he was fumbling off the rest of his clothes, breathing heavily as she flicked a cool gaze over him. 

It was familiar and strangely odd, the two of them in an unfamiliar room. He felt Arnold's presence by his absence, a void that should be snapping orders or guiding limbs. Before he could dwell on it further, Yvonne pinched his nipple, distracting him. "I can't be him for you, but I can be me. I can do my best to give you what you need, but you're going to have to tell me what that is. Can you do that?" 

Tears stung his eyes as he nodded, then his voice trembled as he answered, "It feels like my skin is crawling but I can't scratch the itch away. I can't draw a deep breath. I can't focus. I can't think." Her gentle kiss only served to make him more agitated. "Tie me down," he implored. "Get me out of my head. Make me forget." 

He swallowed as she unbuttoned her skirt and let it drop to the floor, the dark material looking like a black hole ready to suck her down. She threw her blouse onto a chair, her bra joining it seconds later. Her gaze locked on his, she slid her black lace panties down to her ankles. Lifting one strong, lean leg, she pressed her foot with the panties tangled around it to his crotch. "Put them on." 

He kept his gaze on the floor as he stepped into the silk and lace, hissing as it slid along his skin. They were far too small, but he did his best to tuck his cock and balls into the material, knowing it was what she wanted. 

Despite his best effort, she tutted at him. "That'll have to do," she murmured in disappointment, and it _hurt_ to hear it in her voice. 

"I'm sorry," he replied hastily and hung his head; an acknowledgement of his inadequacy. 

He inhaled sharply as she dug her short fingernails into his nipples. "I don’t think you're sorry at all," she stated. "Lie down on your back. Stretch your arms above your head and grasp the chains." 

Despite her claim that they were new quarters, Yvonne's bed was pristine with her thickly padded cuffs resting near the headboard. He did as instructed, wrapping the chains around his wrists twice before grasping the remaining slack in his fists, breathing heavily in anticipation. 

"Oh, no, pet, I want you to _earn_ your reward," she taunted as she straddled his chest, her scent teasing his senses as she unwound the chains and strapped his wrists into the cuffs. 

He flushed with heat and need as she slithered down his body, letting out a thin, needy moan as she pulled on his legs, dragging his body down the bed. Her panties crawled further up the crack of his ass and pulled his starting-to-respond cock uncomfortably downward, and it took everything in him not to squirm. 

Looking pleased with his discomfort, Yvonne secured the cuffs around his ankles and then tested his bonds. She smiled up at him darkly as she played with the slack. "I want to shorten these until you have no slack whatsoever. I want you stretched out fully, unable to move your knees or get leverage to move your hips." 

His hands clenched into fists as his back arched, the throb of his trapped erection sending spikes of pleasure to his extremities. "Yes," he choked out, though he couldn't relax his muscles as she adjusted the chains securing his ankles. Shorter, then shorter again, and he felt the pull along his sides. Sweat broke out across his skin as he felt the sought-after stirrings at the edge of his mind. 

His eyes snapped open as his head was grabbed, Yvonne's features large and laced with concern. "Is it too tight? I don't want to aggravate your injuries." 

He wiggled his fingers; the wrist cuffs were tight but not threatening his circulation. His calf muscle jumped where the stitches had been, the slight burn racing along his nerves. He could feel where the new skin on his side was stretched, but it was a dull ache; making him feel alive. "It's good," he assured her, slipping back into his pleading tone to add, "But I want you to make me _forget_." 

She tilted his head back, stretching out his neck until he whined. "If you even _think_ about coming without my permission, I'll leave you tied to this bed until tomorrow morning." 

The surge of arousal was painful and he welcomed it with a groaned, "Yes."

His heart started to thump wildly as she knelt over his head, ordering, "Make me come three times," as she lowered her pussy to his mouth. 

He thrust his tongue out eagerly, the taste and the scent and the warmth of her overwhelming after the clinical smells of the Medibay. He hummed and licked, knowing what she liked; where she liked it, how hard and how fast. 

She was slower to arouse than normal, probably because of the emotional service they'd just attended. And if he could still think that, then he wasn't concentrating on _her_. He redoubled his efforts, letting his turmoil and his agony and his concerns fade to the background as he focused on the only thing that mattered: getting her to come. 

A pleased hum accompanied her rocking hips and he rode out her first orgasm with his tongue as far inside her as he could get. She pressed down on his face as he licked up to her clit, squashing his nose and limiting his breathing. He moved his head and mouth as best he could, his humming vibrations causing her to moan softly and lift off of him with her second orgasm. 

"Pathetic. Pitiful. You're not even _trying_ ," she spat as she sank down on him again, smearing her juices across his mouth, nose and cheeks as she rolled her hips. "I come harder _thinking_ about getting fucked." 

Her words had the desired effect: he felt himself slipping into his special headspace, his sense of self fading to the background. He distantly felt the strain on his neck and the ache of his jaw, but he ignored it as he nibbled gently at her folds. He wanted to please her; needed it more than he needed air. She pressed down onto his mouth again, filling him with her taste and scent. Tears leaked from his eyes; he was hers to use, only existing to pleasure her…

The muscles in her thighs shook as she came a third time, but he didn't stop his efforts. He quickly brought her to another orgasm and she wailed as she ground down on him, suffocating him, and the warmth of satisfaction buzzed along his nerves. 

Panting and groaning, she climbed off of him and staggered over to her armoire, pulling out her favorite strap-on harness. He grew harder as he watched her slip one of the dildos inside her, tightening the harness around her hips and thighs. The other dildo waved in the air as she climbed back onto the bed, releasing his ankles from the cuffs. She carefully tugged the panties down to his knees, then folded his legs up to his chest, fixing him with a glare. "Keep your knees on your chest and your ass on the bed. If you come before I tell you to, I'll stick a vibrator up your ass and leave it on until morning," she threatened shakily. 

He didn't answer; he _couldn't_ answer. He was staring at the thick, bulbous head waiting to be thrust into him. He strained to hold his legs to his chest while she prepped him. The cold slick and feel of her fingers stretching him open left him breathless, but he held himself still, unconcerned with his own body's needs. 

He couldn't hold back his moans as she thrust against his arsehole, but didn't enter him. She was pleasuring herself, holding the head against his ass as she rode the dildo stuffed inside her pussy. He licked his lips, filling his mouth with her taste so that he was completely surrounded by her. He clenched the chains above his wrists and spread his legs until the elastic of the panties cut into his flesh, the pain settling into his bones. 

Tears rolled down the sides of his face as she used him as he deserved to be used, as he _needed_ to be used; nothing more than warm flesh that had no needs of its own. He felt himself sinking further and further down into nothingness, losing his sense of self and his needs and his wants.

When his legs were shaking with the effort to hold them upright; when her moans had turned to short grunts, she added more slick to his arsehole and firmly, steadily pressed the head inside. With a soft cry, all the tension drained out of him, his muscles going limp as her short, relentless thrusts drove it deeper and deeper. 

His arousal was unimportant; he focused on her, watching as the muscles jumped in her arms as she threw her full weight on top of him, pressing his knees to his chest. He tasted the urgency in her wild thrusts that shook the bed; he ached to swallow her frustrated cries as she sought her release with no regard for his own. He was drowning in her; her half-moans, her scent, the sweat of her body as she covered him. 

"Look at me, damn it," she demanded breathlessly. 

He studied her sweaty, straggly hair sticking to her red face and thought her beautiful, but her eyes made his mind skitter at the edge of reality. Dark and pained and lost, like something inside had been broken. "I want to forget, too," she admitted on a pained whisper as she drove herself to an explosive orgasm, stilling with the balls of the dildo pressed tight against his ass.

It was raw nerves and deep pain and he was stripped bare, left naked and shaking. He couldn't draw a deep breath beneath the weight of her body, his own pleading to be released from the torturous precipice he'd held himself at, but he would not disappoint her. He shoved his needs aside as he shifted his body as best he could, any movement to jostle the dildo still inside her or brush against her clit, wanting to prolong her pleasure. 

She twitched and groaned softly, and he closed his eyes to appreciate the sound. It was what he needed to hear, it was why he was there and the bite of his arousal started to fade. 

He sighed contentedly as she pulled out of him, continuing to hold his legs to his chest despite the painful tingling in his toes. His head was swimming with white noise, utterly blank and calm as he savoured the feeling of nothingness.

He watched languidly as she slipped out of her harness, then removed the panties hobbling him and lowered his legs to the bed. He felt her release his wrists, then sighed quietly at the gentle rubbing to soothe the red marks that were surely there. It was an effort to turn his head at her command to look at her, stretched out next to him on the bed and staring down at him with an unreadable expression. Her face was still red with her exertion, streaked with sweat and tears that shimmered in her eyes. 

He felt her hand around his straining cock, but it was her words that touched him. "As much as I love him, it's only as bright as one lone star compared to the galactic brilliance of what you two share. What you two are – it transcends love. It transcends time. He won't let you exist in this universe without him." The tears overflowed as she whispered, "Come for him." 

Her words flung him back to reality with a sickening lurch, breaking the dam inside him. He came with great, wracking sobs as pleasure and despair merged to give him the most painful orgasm he'd ever experienced. 

He screamed all the screams he couldn't when his lungs were full of smoke and his fingertips sank into Arnold's broken skull. 

He let loose the wails of despair he'd held back when he woke up in Medibay and Maria told him that Arnold had been out of surgery for twelve hours, but had shown no signs of consciousness. 

He unleashed his pent-up rage at the GELFs who chose _his_ ship to attack, and the space hero who destroyed the GELF ship and left him with no bodies and no justice. 

He lay utterly wrung out and limp in Yvonne's arms, still crying and shaking from the physical and emotional release. He tasted Yvonne's tears as she kissed him, a desperation borne out of helplessness and fear of the unknown. There was little comfort in her embrace, but he clung to her and kissed her back, needing the part of himself rebuilt that she'd just destroyed. 

Her sweet murmurings began to fill the empty place inside as her hands soothed along his trembling thighs and his injured side, an assurance to both of them that his wounds hadn't been reopened. He kissed the tears from her cheeks as she wrapped them in a thick, warm blanket, snuggling up tight against her as he murmured, 'Thank you." 

Lister's descent into nothingness had been hard, abandoning his concern and worry for Arnold had felt like the worst sort of betrayal. But Arnold would have dragged him off to play if he hadn't been the one injured, instinctually knowing it was exactly what Lister needed. 

He fell into an exhaustive sleep, still wrapped around Yvonne's body. 

When he woke in the early hours of the morning, Yvonne was still deeply asleep next to him. A flash of inspiration had him securing her wrists in the cuffs so he could tease her clit, the gentlest of touches to slowly, ever so slowly, wake her. She hated being woken up like this, but he knew it would be what she needed after tending to him. 

She woke with a gasped moan and the rattle of chains as she tried to reach for him. "Bastard!" she snarled as he angled his erection to press inside her, holding onto her legs as she twisted and bucked beneath him. 

He ignored her pleas and curses and threats, continuing his slow, easy thrusts. He loved watching her fall apart; when she reached the point of giving in and accepted the pleasure being given to her. It wasn't long after that when she clenched around him, her drawn-out moan tickling up his spine. 

He pulled his still-hard erection out of her and gently lowered her legs. Starting at her ankles, he kissed up both legs, hearing her ragged breath as he flicked his tongue along her inner thigh. He skimmed lightly over her outer folds, up to her stomach and continued to press kisses to her skin, savouring her breasts before nibbling on her earlobe. "All right?" he asked as he reached up and released her wrists. 

Her free hand went immediately to the side of his face, caressing his cheek. There were tears glittering in her eyes and her hair was damp with them. "Thank you," she whispered and pulled him down for a soft kiss. "I could do with a nice, hot bath. You probably could, too." 

It was a knife to his heart: his and Arnold's favorite time after play was bathing together, his back against Arnold's chest. "Yeah," he rasped, his erection fading away as they both settled into the claw foot tub. 

The hands were strong, but the fingers weren't long and elegant. The cleansing strokes of the cloth were firm and loving, but they weren't worshipful. The water smelled of lavender, but eyes open or closed, Lister couldn't pretend it was Arnold at his back. 

As he pulled on his clothes, renewed exhaustion dragged at him. With one last kiss and thank you, he shuffled to the lift and made his way back to the Medibay. Despite feeling more like himself, the decision of what to do about Arnold still lay heavily on his heart. As silent tears slipped down his cheeks and wet the pillow, he knew what his answer had to be. "I can't let you go," he murmured in apology as he fell to a restless sleep. 

Maria took one look at his pinched face the next morning and ordered him to an exam bed. He'd strained muscles that weren't ready to be tested yet, and he limped back to his alcove with new pain meds and strict orders not to have sex for at least two weeks. 

Whatever demons had haunted him the past few weeks, his night with Yvonne had burned them out. He had clarity and focus, and started calling up medical case files similar to Arnold's to see if he could find a solution that the experts on board had missed. His eyes were gritty and burning but he kept reading and crosschecking facts, following the thinnest of leads, and facing disappointment again and again. 

Four days after his revelation, he woke up with a splitting headache and drool on the console, where the medical records of a Space Marine mocked him. He punched the monitor off and spun away from the console, muttering at yet another dead end. 

He walked blindly to the dispenser and ordered his coffee with milk, trying to avoid eye contact with everyone. Whenever he emerged from the cocoon of timelessness into the bustle of the Medibay, he cursed the spinal implant that was retraining Johann's peripheral nervous system to function properly again. The new skin on his palms itched when his glance slid to the dermal regenerator against Maxie's neck and shoulder, healing her third degree burns over 60 percent of her body. He scowled as Dolf, after having his kneecap and cartilage replaced, was taking his first steps without crutches. He was surrounded by medical advances to repair the body inside and out, but absolutely nothing existed to help heal the human brain. 

"Should've gotten my degree in neurosurgery instead of advanced holography," he groused as he sipped at the too-hot liquid. "Maybe then I'd understand this smegging terminology…" the mug almost slipped from his hand. It clunked to the console, sloshing hot coffee over his hand and his notes. 

He _couldn't_. He didn't _dare_. 

It was experimental, a thesis decided on a whim and a love of old technology, like his space bike. He'd only run computer simulations, as there were no pre-recorded personality disks on board. 

Holograms weren't even used anymore, the fad having faded out in the earlier part of the century. After all, what good was a hologram that couldn't interact with their environment? It was a folly that had run its course. 

But a _hard light_ hologram could interact with their surroundings, could touch and feel and behave as a living human being. 

The light bee he'd designed was crude; the technology cruder. The Hologram Projection Suite had been in disarray when he'd started his thesis, taking more time to get it operational and upgraded with the latest technology than it had been to run all the simulations. 

But it _should_ work. There was no reason it shouldn't. 

Guilt gnawed at him. Recreating someone as a hologram meant bringing them back from the dead, and invoked serious moral and medical ethics.

But Arnold wasn't dead. 

Heart pounding and palms sweating, Lister slipped out of Medibay and took the lift to the HPS. This far down in the ship, the air circulators only worked to pump fresh air into the spaces, so a layer of dust covered the console. With a trembling finger, Lister touched the start up sequence and the HPS groaned its way to life. He pulled up the chair and settled himself at the console, refamiliarizing himself with the program. 

=-=-=-=-=

After informing the doctors that Arnold was to be left in stasis, Lister moved into quarters next to Yvonne's on the new habitation deck. She'd offered, but he'd declined moving in with her. It wasn't that he didn't want the company, or that he didn't love her for making the offer, but he needed solitude to complete his work. 

Most of his handwritten notebooks had been destroyed in the fires that erupted during the attack, but Arnold had insisted on scanning them all into the computer once Lister had received his degree. Always be prepared, that was his Arnold's motto. That, and always use double the slick that you think you'll need. 

Lister chuckled softly to himself, the humour dissolving quickly as tears stung his eyes. _Soon_ , he told himself as he refocused on the monitor, where the instructions for recording a personality disk scrolled by. He grew queasy and nervous as the specifics came up: _electrodes inserted into the temporal lobe and hippocampus of the brain_. This was an advanced medical procedure, one that he wasn't qualified to give to a healthy man, let alone an injured one. 

Reading further into what was needed to record a personality, Lister's enthusiasm and hope dwindled. What if sections of Arnold's brain were unrecordable? Could something else be used, someone else's memories? 

Too invested in the idea of a holographic Arnold, Lister delved deeper into the history of personality disks. 

=-=-=-=-=

Maria stood grimly by his side, Yvonne clutching his free hand as Lister nervously pressed the activation button. The computer chirruped, "Beginning hologram initiation sequence."

Static erupted in the Hologram Projection Suite before Arnold's distorted form solidified around the hard light bee, and Lister had never seen a more beautiful sight as the beloved body undamaged. He reached out hesitantly, afraid that Arnold wouldn't be hard light, but his fingertips stopped when they touched Arnold's arm and he stifled a sob. It felt like real flesh, warm to the touch, and _solid_.

"He looks…dead," Yvonne whispered. 

"This is just his physical form," Maria cautioned. "Dave still has to load his personality." 

Nerves fluttered in his stomach and Lister felt like throwing up. He'd recorded dreams; spent hours remembering every detail of Arnold that he could, and spliced it into the data collected from Maria's electrode stimulation of Arnold's brain. In all of Lister's research,  
such a conglomeration of resources to form one hologram had never been attempted. Coupled with Arnold's brain activity at only 73% when Maria started the procedure, dropping to below 50% in the two hours it took to finalize the recording, the outcome was unknown and terrifying. Lister closed his eyes, breathed out Arnold's name, and pressed the second button. 

The computer's voice seemed accusatory as it informed them, "Downloading personality files." 

Arnold's facial muscles started to twitch, then he clutched his head and let out an agonized scream. 

Lister struggled in Maria's arms, trying to get to his lover. "We don’t know what interfering will do to the transfer," Maria cautioned him. 

"But he _needs_ me," he shouted, tears streaming down his face as Arnold fell to his knees. 

The computer's announcement was barely heard over Arnold's screams. "Loading of personality files complete. Hologram initiation sequence complete." 

The horrible wails died down and Lister slipped out of Maria's grasp, sliding to his knees and cradling Arnold in his arms. He'd never felt so helpless in his life. He'd never seen Arnold other than confident and calm; this Arnold was a stranger. Had something gone wrong with the data transfer? His throat was too tight to say anything, so he held on tighter and willed Arnold to be all right. 

Relieved beyond measure when Arnold's arms came up to clutch at his shoulders, Lister stroked Arnold's curls as he felt the warmth of tears soak into his shoulder. "It's okay, love," he choked out, feeling the bite of the lie on his tongue. "I know you're confused, but I'm right here." 

Lister jumped when he heard his name, blinking away the sting of tears when he realized it came from Arnold. "What's happened, Dave? My head's all jumbled. It hurts." 

He ignored his own tears as he kissed the top of Arnold's head. "I've got Doctor Hernandez here, and Yvonne. When you're feeling strong enough, we'll explain what's happened." 

Next thing Lister knew, he was being kissed deeply, held in a breath-stealing grip. He returned the kiss with fervor, having been denied for almost a full four months. He was lightheaded and dizzy, feeling like he was falling until he realized he was being pushed back onto the floor and – he groaned – covered by Arnold. 

"I feel like I've just come inside you," Arnold murmured between fierce kisses. "And like I haven't touched you in weeks." 

Lister was barely coherent, overwhelmed at the simplest of touches after so long without, mixed with the bright pain of knowing that he'd almost lost this forever. He arched up into the solid body holding him down and groaned, "Need you. Always need you." 

Desire surged through him as Arnold whispered low in his ear, "I want to possess you. I want to own you; make you forget your name." 

"Yes," Lister moaned, barely able to remember why Arnold couldn't take him right there, right now. "But first we have to talk to the doctor." 

"I don't want to _talk_ ," Arnold growled softly, and a whimper caught in Lister's throat. _So long without_ …

Going against the very core of his being, Lister pushed at Arnold until he could look into the confused, hurt, lust-filled eyes. "I love you more than my own life," he began, his voice cracking, "But you need to be checked out by the doctor. There was an accident and she has to make sure you're all right. I need to know you're all right. For me, Arnold. Please." 

The hunt and confusion faded from Arnold's eyes, to be replaced by fondness. "Anything for you, my pushy sub," his lover groused with a flicker of a smile. The familiar, grumbled annoyance sent Lister's heart soaring. 

"You know you love it," he teased, before freezing at Arnold's frown. _Thoughtless_ , _stupid_ …"It's okay if you don't remember," he added quickly. "Your memory was affected…" Words failed him as Arnold backed away and stood up, Lister immediately feeling the chill of his absence. He scrambled to his feet, but Arnold stepped away from his touch. 

"By what? The accident? I don't remember any accident," Arnold growled, no longer playful. "I don't remember…being…hurt." Arnold stared down at his uninjured body. Lister watched with growing horror as Arnold touched his undislocated left shoulder, then ran his hand down his unbroken arm; the perplexed, worried expression deepening. When Arnold touched his undamaged, unfractured head, tears started to run down his face. "I can see my head caved in. I can see my bones sticking out of my arm. I can see myself covered in blood, but I don't remember…just pain. Unending, impossible pain." 

Lister's stomach heaved, threatening to eject the tea he'd managed to choke down that morning. "Love," he called shakily, taking a tentative step towards Arnold. "Arnold. Please, look at me." 

Haunted, accusatory eyes met his and Lister had to steel himself to stay standing. "You weren't hurt in an accident. We were attacked by a GELF ship. Your skull was severely fractured," he confirmed. "You were critically injured, on the verge of dying. I couldn't let you go. I made a choice; the only choice I could. I brought you back…as a hard light hologram." 

Lister's head reeled with the lightning-quick, hard slap to his cheek. There was nothing sexual to it; it was pure, undiluted rage. The pain felt like penance and he raised his chin for the next slap, and the next. His skin was burning and tears rolled down his cheeks, but he didn't cry out. 

"How _dare_ you," Arnold hissed, raising his hand for another blow despite his own face wet with tears. "This isn't _me_. I'm a…a _memory_ of who I used to be. None of this is real. I'm not real." His hand fell to his side and Lister took a cautious step forward. 

"I'm not real," Arnold whispered and he went unresisting into Lister arms. 

"You're my Arnold Rimmer," Lister insisted through the tears. "You'll always be my Arnold. If you weren't real, you wouldn't feel betrayed and angry. If you weren't real, you wouldn't feel this," he murmured as he pressed a kiss to the side of Arnold's neck. He pulled back to look into Arnold's eyes. "If you weren't real, you wouldn't kiss me back." Before he could bring their mouths together, Arnold reached out to caress Lister's cheek, drawing a hiss even at the light touch. 

"If I weren't real, I wouldn't feel ashamed and guilty for hitting you," Arnold admitted with a catch to his voice. 

The smile felt odd on Lister's lips. "You hit me all the time." He gasped as Arnold pressed a tender kiss to his cheekbone. 

Fresh tears welled in Arnold's eyes. "I've never hit you in anger. I was shocked and upset. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Dave." 

Despite Arnold's gentle touch, Lister's cheek throbbed in time with this heartbeat. He covered Arnold's hand with his own and pressed hard; harder, until the pain felt like exoneration. He knew he was forgiven when Arnold rubbed that special spot below his ear that only he knew about, the sensitive patch of skin that if touched, during even the roughest, hardest play, let Lister know he was loved and cherished. 

"I'm sorry," Lister murmured. "I'm sorry I was so selfish. I couldn't ask you what you wanted, but I knew I couldn't go on without you. I need you too much." 

"Dave." Beloved hands tilted his head back as thumbs caressed his cheeks. "I wouldn't want to live in a universe without you, either. It will take some getting used to, but I understand why you did it." 

Lister stared into those hazel eyes flecked with green and gold that he'd lost himself in all those years ago and felt like he was falling in love all over again. "You are the other half of my soul, Arnold Rimmer. In all of creation, no one has ever loved someone so completely as I love you. I would burn the sky for you." 

It was a claiming kiss; as deep and consuming as the first they shared as a bonded pair. The first time Lister admitted his feelings. The first time Arnold broke down after one of their intense sessions. The first time they completed each other. 

Their foreheads touching and their breathing erratic, Arnold toyed with one of Lister's dreads as he declared, "My love for you is boundless. It stretches across time and space, through galaxies and history, and I would destroy it all to get back to you. You are the most precious creation in the entire universe, David Lister; the other half of my soul." 

A throat clearing brought them out of their cocoon of devotion. "Now that you've renewed your vows, let's get you dressed, Arnold, so I can explain exactly what happened to you and answer any questions you have," Maria stated crisply, but there was a smile on her face and her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "Then we'll have to figure out what to tell the rest of the crew." 

Even in such an impossible situation, Lister felt a thrill of satisfaction that Arnold seemed surprised there were other people in the room. They'd been so caught up in each other that Arnold had only seem _him_ , and Lister selfishly loved it more than a little bit. 

Arnold's gaze fixated on Yvonne's hesitant one, then Lister sucked in a breath as Arnold walked over to her and pressed her to the wall with the intensity of his kiss. 

Her pleased hum skittered along Lister's nerves, sending another burst of arousal through his system. 

"It really is you," Yvonne breathed as she was released, Arnold immediately taking a step away from her. "I'm sorry," she stammered, looking helplessly from Arnold to Lister. "I didn't mean…" 

Before Lister could get to Arnold, Arnold dove back in for another kiss. Yvonne's moan was plaintive and vibrated in Lister's bones, her hands scrambling at Arnold's back for purchase.

When Arnold stepped back, Lister saw the dazed look in her eyes and the flush of arousal high on her cheeks. He mimicked her tongue swiping across her swollen lips, and an idea of what he'd like to do with Yvonne once he'd thoroughly welcomed Arnold back began to take form. 

Maria handed Arnold the clothes that Lister had brought down and he dressed quickly. As they rode the lift back to Medibay, Lister kept tight hold on Arnold's hand, too afraid that it was all a dream. 

Arnold squeezed back, but his eyes were focused on the floor. "Once I'm comfortable with this, with this change to me, I will keep my promise to you, Dave," he vowed quietly. Lister shivered. "And Yvonne?" Lister couldn't see Yvonne on Arnold's other side, but he imagined her eyes wide and anticipatory. "Once I'm convinced that I'm me and Dave is incapable of remembering his name, then I expect you in our quarters so I can convince you that I'm me, too." 

Lister heard her fidget on the bench. "I'm convinced already," she stated playfully. "But smeg, I've missed you." 

Arnold's voice was quiet, but Lister heard the anger in his tone. "How long has it been, since the accident – the attack?"

Wetting his lips, Lister admitted, "Four months. It took weeks to get the program ready and your personality disk finalized. I wasn't going to take any chances. I only had one shot to get this right." His thumb caressed the top of Arnold's hand. "If I failed in this, then I would have lost you forever." 

He studied Arnold's profile, half in shadow, and felt the overwhelming need to purge the last four months from his system. "I was grieving for you the first few weeks after the attack. I was numb, in shock, and couldn't hold a thought in my head for more than a few seconds. Yvonne helped me out of that fog, but it still took days for me to realize I could bring you back with my hard light drive. I didn't go into this lightly, Arnold. If there had been any other way…"

His breath hitched as Arnold pulled him up tight against his side, Lister only then realizing that the smell he associated with his lover was missing. He shoved his disappointment aside; the loss of the comforting smell was a small price to pay to have Arnold back. 

"Doc?" Arnold called out softly. "Since we have about a half hour until we reach the Medibay, why don't you tell me what happened, from the beginning?" 

Lister held onto Arnold tighter as Maria went back over the horrible events, revealing details that Lister hadn't remembered hearing before. Her vivid recall of the chaos during the attack, the flood of injured to the Medibay, brought the smells and sounds alive for Lister and he grew colder, shivering despite the warmth that Arnold exuded. 

"Were you hurt?" Arnold's concerned voice drew Lister's attention, but his lover was looking at Yvonne. 

"Just a badly sprained ankle and some cuts and bruises," she answered. "Nothing compared to…I was fine. I am fine. Especially now that you're here," her voice dipped in her seductive way and her hand came up to Arnold's cheek, bringing him down for a kiss. 

The soft sounds of their kissing scraped along Lister's nerves; not in jealousy, but in a deep, dark need to be a participant. 

"You're sure you're all right?" Arnold asked one last time, and Yvonne must have nodded as Lister heard lips smacking one last time. "Then forgive me, but I need to attend to someone else for awhile." 

Lister ceased breathing as Arnold turned to him, his eyes fierce and dark and absolutely terrified. His unbruised cheek was cupped as his head was tilted back and his mouth plundered as only Arnold could: all-consuming and worshipful and grateful. "Tell me," Arnold gasped as soon as he released Lister's mouth. "Tell me what happened in our quarters. Tell me what happened to you." 

The trembling started up again and Lister shook his head. "I can't. I relive it every night; don't make me say it aloud. _Please_ ," he begged as he saw _the look_ pass over Arnold's features; the one he could not ignore. The one he had no defense against. The one that demanded instant, unconditional compliance. 

"Fire," forced its way out of Lister's mouth, conditioned to obey that look no matter how painful. "There might have been a fire. There was so much stifling heat. Couldn't breathe. Air was too thick. Heat and thick and blood." Tears slipped down his cheeks. "My hands were burning. You were buried under half the wall and the table and books and…I shoved it all away to get to you." 

He let out a shaky breath as Arnold kissed his palm, as searing as the hot metal that had burned his flesh. "I couldn't see very well. The room was spinning and I couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream. I tried to pull you free, but I wasn't strong enough. My hands were too slippery." Lister's voice faded in strength and volume the further he sank into the memory. "Blood. So much blood. Couldn’t see your face. Tried to wipe off the blood but it kept coming back. Tried to put your head on my lap but my fingers – they –" The words wouldn't come; too horrible to speak, too traumatizing to relive. He broke down, begging, "I can't. Please, not again." 

He was surrounded by familiar strength as Arnold enfolded him in his arms and he let loose with his tears and his rage. He fisted the clothes beneath his hands, imagining he was finally dragging Arnold to safety, that he was strong enough, that he could save him. 

Then there was a presence at his back, warm and alive and pressing him closer to Arnold, so close he couldn't breathe, and he had never felt more _safe_. As he drew in too-thin, ragged breaths, the room started to spin and he held on tighter, digging his fingers into Arnold's shoulders. 

"Dave was in danger of respiratory failure from smoke inhalation," Lister dimly heard Maria's calm recollection. "When I got to him, he'd been sick several times from what I learned was a severe concussion. He already had oozing pus from the third degree burns on his hands and forearms. He took twelve stitches on the right side of his head from blunt force trauma. Two hours in surgery to remove an eight inch long piece of metal from his left calf and repair the internal damage. Three days of dermal regeneration to replace the scraped-off skin down the right side of his torso; we still don't know how that happened." 

Lister remained perfectly still. He'd never listened when Maria tried to tell him about his own injuries; they were unimportant in the face of what had happened to Arnold. But now, hearing them spoken so clinically, so matter-of-fact, he felt nauseated. "I'm going to be sick," he breathed. 

A hand stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head; Yvonne. He felt, more than heard, Arnold's deep rumble, "But he's all right now? Everything's healed?" 

"Aside from a slight limp that will fade with time, yes, he's fully healed," Maria answered. 

Lister felt his head being tipped backward and he opened his eyes, staring up into Arnold's darkened with desire. "I hate that you further injured yourself to try to save my life, but I love you for it all the same. No matter what happens with this new body, with this new me, know that I will always, always love you, until the last light fades on the last planet in the universe." 

Tears blurred Lister's vision. "I would suffer it again, every day of my life, if it meant you came back to me." He kissed blindly, wildly, rising up to his knees to better leverage himself. Only the lift operator's announcement that they had arrived at their destination and to please pick up all trash penetrated his haze of lust and need. They reluctantly parted, heated glances and inappropriate touches keeping their arousal from fading completely as they made their way to the Medibay. 

=-=-=-=

Anticipation had built up over the long afternoon. While Lister was getting his puffed-up cheek tended to, Arnold had been put through a battery of physical and mental tests. Lister squirmed as Arnold bent, squat, jogged, stretched and tantalized him from across the room. The body was nearly perfect and Lister's mind had run wild with potential scenarios for that evening. 

The itch beneath Lister's skin had grown more distracting as Karyn, the ship's psychologist, kept peppering Arnold with questions. It was clear that Arnold had been ready to leave as well, as his hand kept straying to Lister's inner thigh to run teasing fingers along the outline of his cock. 

It had taken their combined efforts to convince both doctors to keep Arnold's hologrammatic resurrection a secret until the next day. Lister's plans for that evening required extreme privacy, and although he hadn't said anything to Arnold about it yet, he knew that Arnold could sense his agitation. 

With precautions and a list of warning signs to watch for, they had finally been allowed to leave. 

With each step toward their new quarters, Lister's stomach grew more twisted and nervous. He knew – he was fairly sure – that Arnold would agree to his request, but there was always the slim chance he'd say no. It was Arnold's right to say no, but Lister had never needed that connection as strongly as he needed it now. A flogging wouldn't burn it out of him. Paddling wouldn't even dim it. He needed something even more intimate than his lover's hand forcing pain deep into his soul. 

As their door slid closed and locked, Lister gasped as he was pulled back against Arnold's chest, one hand slipping into the front of his trousers; long fingers closing around his half-hard cock. 

He moaned and nearly lost himself to the sensations, but his own need surfaced and he stilled Arnold's hand. "Please," he whispered brokenly and licked his lips. "May I make love to you?" 

It was a request he'd only asked twice in their relationship, the last on their tenth anniversary, and Arnold had not denied him. It was a rare gift, even rarer that Lister felt the overpowering need, but it was so strong that he was shaking with it. 

The hand withdrew from his trousers and he was turned around, though he kept his head bowed out of respect. "You know that is never necessary or required with me, Dave," Arnold murmured, and Lister flicked his gaze up. Tears shone in Arnold's eyes, but a half smile teased his lips, his expression appreciative and anticipatory. "If I grant your request, what are you willing to grant me in return?" 

The nervous tension drained from Lister; those were the same words that Arnold had used on their anniversary. "Anything you desire," he answered quickly, but tonight, it seemed inadequate. "And more," he added on a ragged breath. "I need you so much, it's a fire in my veins. I've been four months and three days without you. An eternity." 

Arnold grasped the back of his neck before giving him a tender, chaste kiss that brought tears to his own eyes. "For tonight, I'm yours." 

The tears fell as Lister let out a relieved breath. "Thank you." He undressed himself quickly, but took his time undressing Arnold, lingering over each patch of exposed skin with kisses and nips and delicate swipes of his tongue. As he guided Arnold to lay on the bed, he knelt over his lover's legs and took the half-hard cock into his mouth, saving the best for last. Flavor burst over his tongue, not as strong as it had been but still undeniably _Arnold_ , and he hummed in appreciation. 

He went down on Arnold slowly, savoring the stretch of his mouth and the weight against his tongue. He pressed down, moaning as hands gripped his hair and Arnold thrust up, causing him to gag. He took a breath and went down again, feeling his throat open as Arnold thrust again. He groaned as Arnold fucked his throat; the sharp, short thrusts and the litany of _smegs_ sweet music to his ears. His eyes watered with the need to take a breath but he wouldn't stop this for anything; not another attack, not an invasion force, _nothing_ would keep him from his reward. 

Lister's face was mashed into Arnold's crotch as he came long and hard, his head still held tightly between Arnold's hands. Lister worked his throat as best he could, swallowing with difficulty as his vision swam with his body's demand for oxygen. Finally, Arnold softened and his grip relaxed, allowing Lister to pull off and gulp in air. 

He felt fingers in his hair and tilted his head up from the sprawl he'd done on Arnold's thigh, to see the beautiful sight of Arnold's satisfied, soft smile. Unable to resist such an invitation, Lister kissed his way up Arnold's chest, pausing to nibble on the right nipple. "Ready for me?" he asked as he kissed along Arnold's jaw. 

"Always," came the husky answer, sending chills down Lister's spine. 

With one last kiss, Lister rolled to the edge of the bed to grab the bottle of slick and a condom. Erection straining with the built up anticipation, Lister licked his lips as he saw Arnold had rolled onto his stomach. The long expanse of back was like a Psiren's song, and it was a long moment before Lister regained control over his urge to _claim_. 

With a tight reign on his arousal, Lister prepared his lover carefully, lovingly; stretching and teasing until Arnold was breathing hard and shifting his hips. He pressed kisses along Arnold's spine, working his way down to where his fingers slid in and out. A possessive desire overtook him and he twisted his fingers and pressed up, a satisfied groan escaping as Arnold clenched around him and let out a string of curses. 

"Shit, Dave, are you trying to kill me?" Arnold panted. 

Shocked to stillness, Lister had to remember to breathe. "No, love," he whispered, his voice breaking on every syllable. "I'm bringing you back to life." 

Lister blinked, and he found himself in Arnold's arms, being roughly kissed in apology. He felt the bed at his back and it was the most natural thing in the world to cradle Arnold between his spread thighs, feeling Arnold's hand gripping his ass as their erections slid against each other. 

His head spun as he was shifted again, his knees on either side of Arnold's hips as they switched position, Lister back on top. Arnold's mouth finally released it's hold, only to softly demand, "You promised to make love to me." 

The golds and greens and hazel were swallowed by Arnold's desire, and Lister had never felt more powerful. "I always keep my promises," he said, his voice breaking again. 

His hands shook as he rolled on the condom and covered it with slick. He held his breath as he started to push inside, watching Arnold's face for subtle changes. He stilled at the twitch of discomfort or a sharp breath, keeping his hand constantly in motion over Arnold's side, thigh, chest; waiting until the need built up again in Arnold's eyes. 

He slipped in deeper, slow presses of his hips to ease his way in carefully. His arms trembled as he lowered himself to Arnold's chest, bracing his knee on the bed as he gave one quick thrust to bend Arnold's body that little bit more to bring their mouths together. 

He swallowed the small whine of pain, matching the thrust of his tongue with the languid pace of his hips. One hand strayed to Arnold's head, fingers tangling in the silky curls. Lister muttered nonsense words; words that only Arnold would understand, words that only had meaning between them. Tears sprang to his eyes; he'd nearly lost this. Nearly lost Arnold forever. Lost the deepest connection he'd ever felt with another human being. The room faded away; only their two bodies existed.

Sweat broke out over Lister's body with the effort to hold himself back. He had no real desire to come; if he had his way, he'd stay like this forever, intimately joined with Arnold and listening to the soft gasps and low groans so often unheard as he was lost in his own pleasure. He nipped at Arnold's neck, laving the skin with his tongue as his lover's groans grew ragged. 

Arnold suddenly gripped his thighs, holding his hips still. His lover's broken, fractured, "Need you," tore at his heart and he drove in deep, unable to stop himself.

From not wanting to come, to his body demanding release from the tightly coiled tension, Lister gripped the bedsheets as he lost control. His hips snapped fast and hard, the rush of blood ringing in his ears and causing his heart to thump madly. "Need you," he gasped. "Need to know you're real and alive." 

"Show me," he heard Arnold's voice beckoning him. "Show me how much you need me. Make me smegging _feel it_." 

Lister was lost. His orgasm raced down his spine and he buried himself inside his lover, wrapping his arms around Arnold to hold them together, to tether himself to this world, to keep them connected even after he started to soften. His tears mingled with the sweat on Arnold shoulder, shaking with the strength of the bond they shared. 

He mouthed along the skin beneath his lips, licking the sweat from Arnold's chest as he quickly removed the used condom and tossed it away. Even without seeing the erection, he could tell from Arnold's harsh breathing that he'd gotten hard without Lister touching him. Lister gently rolled Arnold onto his side, pressing his smile into his lover's hip as Arnold's hitched moan indicated he knew exactly what Lister had planned. 

With one last kiss to the base of Arnold's spine, Lister forced his tongue deep inside his lover, thrilling at the choked out gasps and _shits_ and _smegs_. He teased his lover, backing off when he sensed Arnold was getting close, then bringing him to the edge again until Arnold's threats grew dark and imaginative. 

He fumbled for the bottle of slick and started to prepare himself. "Ready for me?" he asked breathlessly as he nipped at Arnold's left cheek, then soothed it with his tongue. 

Instead of the expected answer, or even the expected move of being held down by his wrists, Arnold growled, "Hands and knees, now." 

Skin tingling in anticipation, Lister positioned himself at the foot of the bed, his head down slightly and his ass raised. He groaned at the first too-light swat, but then Arnold started to lay into him, stinging slaps that made his blood sing. When Arnold paused, Lister thought it was to let him catch his breath, but it was to get one of his favorite paddles. Lister's moans grew in volume as he lost count of the swings, his entire body vibrating with each connection of wood with his flesh. 

When the spanking stopped and Arnold's hand rested between his shoulder blades, his arms gave out and he let his head fall to the sheets, breathing harshly. 

_Four months_. He'd gone four months without this. 

"Do you need me to stop?" Arnold asked quietly. 

He forced his arms to hold him upright, locking his elbows so he wouldn't slump over again. "No," he said, though it came out much more pleading than he'd liked. 

"I'm going to use the cane." 

It wasn't a question, and Lister shivered. He intensely disliked the cane, but Arnold brought it out so rarely and he trusted Arnold implicitly. "How many?" he asked. 

Fingertips stroked lightly down his spine. "Fifteen, if you can tolerate it." 

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The most he'd been able to take had been seven, but that was before. Lister realize that he'd already started thinking in terms of _before_ : before the attack. Before Arnold was brought back. Before _now_. "Yes," he agreed, tensing and releasing his muscles before the first blow. 

He yelped at the first stroke, the sharp sting lingering until the second stroke, and the third. By the ninth stroke, he was crying and breathless with the layers of pain. With the next _swish_ , the cane stayed on his skin and the pain radiated down, then back up and down again, holding him suspended between the sensations. 

His lower lip caught in his teeth as he started to form the first letter of his safeword, his body pushed beyond its pain threshold. As he gasped the first syllable, his hair was swept to the side and the gentlest of touches pressed to that spot below his ear. "Five more, and I will give you what you need," Arnold's whispered promise sank deeper than the pain. "Just five more, pet. I know you can do it. You've taken ten already; that's three more than you've ever done." 

While Arnold whispered to him, his hand smoothed over Lister's abused flesh, hot and aching and agonizing. When Lister found himself pushing back onto Arnold's hand, intensifying the pain despite the tears blinding him, he nodded. "Do it." 

The spot below his ear was kissed once more, then a hand at his back gently pressed him to lie flat on the bed. No longer straining to stay on his hands and knees, Lister relaxed until the next fiery path was traced over his ass. He screamed into the sheets, gripping the edge of the bed as the next three strokes landed precisely in the same spot, making him incoherent with the torturous agony. He didn't feel the last stroke, delirious with pain, but he did feel when he was dragged to the end of the bed.

"Yes please, please fuck me," he gasped, then shouted as he felt Arnold press into him. His ass was on fire and each slam of Arnold's hips was another level of pain, but he raised his hips and met each thrust with a choked cry. 

The pain and the knowledge that Arnold was finally, finally inside him had him coming without warning. His muscles continued to shake as Arnold thrust relentlessly into his abused ass, his shoulders pressed into the mattress, and finally his whole body covered by Arnold as his lover came inside him. 

Sleep pulled at him as he lay in a cocoon of warmth and pain and sore muscles, but Arnold was calling his name. 

"Dave, did I hurt you? Answer me, damn it," Arnold demanded.

Lister opened his eyes and found he was on his side, Arnold's anxious face studying him as his hands roamed over his body. "Than'you," he mumbled, the deepest, darkest place inside him satisfied. 

"I'm going to run a nice, hot bath for you. Don't fall asleep," Arnold ordered, and Lister did his best to obey. But he was so warm and felt so loved…it wasn't until he was submerged in the hot water that he woke up fully, groaning and arching back into Arnold behind him. 

"I warned you not to fall asleep," Arnold chastised him gently. 

"Felt too good," he argued sleepily, feeling Arnold's hands massaging the sore muscles in his right arm. "Will you do that to my ass, too?" he asked with a giggle. 

"I think your ass has had enough of a workout today," Arnold murmured, pressing a kiss to his neck. "I'll massage the healing balm into it later." 

Lister floated on the slowly numbing pain as Arnold massaged all the soreness out of his muscles, sighing, "I love you." 

Arms tightened briefly around him, then Arnold said as simply, as plainly as he ever had, "I love you so much it hurts." 

=-=-=-=

The majority of the crew was accepting of Arnold's return as a hologram, but some of the TBC sneered and mocked him as less than a real man. Arnold kept his head high and ignored them, but Lister knew their rejection hurt him. 

Every RLF crew had their extremes; the vanilla experts all the way to the hard core BDSM members. 'The Bondage Crew' was _Red Dwarf_ 's, and Arnold had left them to be with Lister. Part of their disdain for Arnold now was his rejection of them fourteen years ago, when he fell in love with Lister. Lister was acutely aware of his position and kept on polite, if distant, terms with the more rational members of the TBC. 

Lister kept silent through lunch, uneasy at the confrontation that morning. Not even Yvonne's presence and the anticipation of that afternoon's activities distracted him from his thoughts. 

"Do I have to beat your thoughts out of you?" Arnold teased gently, finally drawing Lister's attention. 

He kept his gaze on the food being pushed around his plate. "Would you have stayed with the TBC if you hadn't fallen in love with me?" Lister asked, surprising himself. It wasn't something he thought of, _ever_ , but apparently Arnold's near-death-and-resurrection had affected him more deeply than he realized. Insecurities long buried had been brought to the surface during his caning, as he was pushed closer to his breaking point than ever before – and Arnold's clear need to push him to that point. 

"My choosing to leave their circle and choosing to be with you have nothing to do with each other," Arnold answered in an even tone. "I chose to leave because I didn't want to be a Master, controlling a slave's every word and action all day, every day. They were pushing me to take control and I refused to go past a certain point. I didn't want a slave; I wanted a partner who could be my equal, who could complement my needs and desires with their own. A partner who knew their own mind and wasn't afraid to speak it." 

Tears stung Lister's eyes. When they'd first gotten together, he was none of those things. He'd barely known his own desires back then, having to have Arnold explain his confusing feelings to him. "Then how did you end up with me?" he braved asking, raising his head to stare across the table. 

Arnold's eyes flashed with amusement and the glow of desire. "I sensed it in you, just as you sensed it in yourself. Do you regret a single moment of our time together?" 

"No," Lister answered decisively, quickly; not feeling the slightest bit of hesitation at the question. "Do you?" 

Arnold looked taken aback at his bold question, then chuckled. "And that, my dear Dave, is why I love you. No, I have no regrets." Lister's heart started to beat faster as Arnold stood up and walked over to him. He took the hand held out and let himself be pulled to his feet and into his lover's arms. "And if I recall correctly, you were technically the one who seduced me…at age fourteen." 

Lister smirked. "I guess we both chose pretty well, then, eh?" he murmured before drawing Arnold down for a kiss, his moment of insecurity forgotten as he, Arnold and Yvonne spent the afternoon in bed. 

=-=-=-=

It was weeks later when Lister was woken up by strange sounds, to find Arnold huddled in the corner of the room, shaking his head and muttering to himself. He coaxed Arnold back to bed, staying awake long after Arnold had gone back to sleep, wondering if he should notify Medibay. Other nights, he found Arnold sitting in a chair staring blankly at the wall. When Lister mentioned the episodes the next morning, Arnold didn't even remember waking up. 

Then, Lister was woken from a sound sleep by Arnold's fingers stretching his ass. The low, growled, "Mine," woke him faster than a bucket of ice water, and he could only clutch at the sheets as Arnold rode him hard and fast. The next morning, his hips ached where Arnold had held him, and at closer inspection, he could see dark bruises forming. As before, Arnold didn't remember waking up, so Lister applied the healing balm and kept it to himself. 

Lister gently prompted Arnold when his lover couldn't remember something that happened on one of their holidays, or the quirkiness of one of their clients. He distracted Arnold's pensiveness with an offer to be tied up and flogged, which ended up taking both their minds off the fear that something was happening to Arnold. 

When Arnold grew frustrated that he couldn't remember his eldest brother's name, Lister told him without thinking, "It's John." The slap across his cheek startled Lister, but not as much as the blankness in Arnold's eyes. Arnold never said a word about it or apologized, and Lister made sure never to prompt his lapse of memory again. 

One morning, Lister woke up to feel Arnold's fingers in his hair, catching on the curls. Arnold's voice sounded raw and scratchy, but the emotion behind the words rang clear and strong. "My love for you is an obsession." Lister moaned as Arnold's hand tightened on his scalp. "Alexander's love for Hephaestion was a grain of sand on a desert planet, while my love for you consumes solar systems." Tears of happiness stung his eyes as Arnold rolled them over and grasped his wrists, pushing them above his head. "It consumes galaxies." Lister met him halfway for the possessive kiss, feeling his body melt beneath Arnold's. 

He whined as his wrists were enclosed in cuffs, his body coming alive in anticipation. Lister felt a flutter of nervousness as Arnold abandoned him, but his eyes lit up when his lover returned. Arnold held up two identical necklaces, his eyes as shiny as the pendants. "The outer ring is an Ouroboros, a symbol of never-ending, just like my love for you. Inside the ring is the infinity symbol, which signifies your never-ending love for me." 

Lister could barely talk through the lump in his throat. "They're perfect," he whispered, and lifted his head so Arnold could tie the thick black cord around his neck. The weight of the pendant was minimal, but Lister felt it deep in his bones. He watched with the heat of possessiveness as Arnold tied the other necklace around his own throat, wishing he'd been allowed to tie that knot. 

He let Arnold do anything to him he desired that morning, the pendant grounding Lister when he felt disconnected from his body. When Arnold had let him come, soothed his aches and tended to his bruised skin, he was tucked up in bed and drifted to sleep, utterly content. 

When he was woken up by his stomach protesting it's lack of real food, he got dressed and fixed himself a quick snack. Hunger satiated for the time being, he went in search of Arnold. 

Not at Yvonne's, not in the classrooms and not in the mess hall, Lister found him in the Play Room, flogging a blonde in long, graceful arcs. From the pleas the woman was making, Arnold had been working her over for quite awhile, but he showed no signs of tiring. 

Lister felt hot all over and his stomach turned sickly. It wasn't that Arnold had his shirt off, with a thin sheen of sweat highlighted the muscles as he flicked the flogger. It was the expression on his face; the confident smirk and the greedy light in his eyes at every plea to be allowed to come he drew out of the woman. 

Considering Lister was still bruised and tender from their session that morning, he wondered how Arnold could have that need again so soon. But watching Arnold work, seeing the power in his arm as he controlled the flogger, Lister started to feel the need, too. He stripped off his clothes and knelt along the wall with the other subs waiting their turn, letting his arousal build slowly as he watched the mastery of his lover at work.

Lister was breathing hard, listening to the changes in the woman's screams. She was at her breaking point and he leaned forward, licking his lips in anticipation of what Arnold would do. The abrupt end to the flogging had him moaning; the spikes of pain would level out and seep into every pore, and she would offer anything to be allowed to come. 

When her begging started, Arnold turned to look straight at him, the light of accomplishment dancing in his eyes. "Grant her wish," he ordered, and Lister shivered despite the warmth in the room. His limbs were stiff from kneeling on the floor, but he moved as quickly as he could around the back of the St. Andrew's. He knelt between the woman's spread legs and used his lips and tongue to drive her to orgasm. Her moans intensified to a scream as Lister heard the thud of the flogger, and he pressed harder against her clit, prolonging her orgasm. He didn't let up until Arnold released the crying woman from the cross, resting back on his heels as Arnold tended to her. 

Lister wiped his face on a towel and drank some water to cool himself down before returning to a kneeling position along the wall. He could do this all day if Arnold was up for it, and from the heated look his lover was shooting him from across the room, he certainly was. Arnold's smile matched his own, and Lister brought off two men and three woman while Arnold took them to dizzying heights with his skill. Arnold's arm was too tired that night to flog him, but Lister was thoroughly and generously fucked until he passed out from his own intense orgasm.

The next morning, however, Lister couldn't move without pain and Arnold's arm was too stiff to move at all. It was the first house call for Maria and she chastised them both for not knowing their limits. Drowsy from the pain medication, Lister slept the day away, Arnold pressed up tight against his side.

=-=-=-=

Their sessions grew in intensity, Arnold getting more inventive with his techniques and his toys. Lister learned just how flexible his own body could be, pleasure and pain never more blurred as when Arnold literally bent him to his will. His body gradually adjusted to the vibrators, balls, and the ever-increasing dildo sizes, but he needed longer and longer recovery times between sessions. Maria's visits became more frequent as Lister endured pulled muscles, painful rope burns and deep bruising, not even Arnold's meticulous care able to help the more serious injuries. 

Lister sent the doctor away once she administered whatever cure she deemed necessary, annoyed at her warnings and lectures on proper safety. He was perfectly safe in Arnold's care, and he'd always proudly worn whatever marks Arnold had left on his skin as a sign of how much he was loved. 

While he rested and recovered, Arnold disappeared, often for the full two or three days. Lister was heartsick that he couldn't be everything Arnold needed, but he was only human and Arnold was so much stronger than him, now. 

When Arnold did return, Lister vowed to do whatever his lover asked, letting Arnold take him to new heights as he sank deeper and longer into his headspace. It frightened Lister, sometimes, how long it took him to come back to himself, but he always did and Arnold was always there, guiding him. 

=-=-=-=

When Lister returned after two days with his last client on Triton, he stopped in the doorway at seeing someone else in their bed. 

"You know Remy, don't you, pet?" Arnold's voice informed him from his right. "He's going to help us this afternoon." 

Lister was tired and wanted nothing more than to grab a quick nap, but even if it had just been Arnold waiting for him, he knew it wouldn't be allowed. Arnold had a very specific ritual whenever Lister had been with someone else. That ritual had never included another person, but having someone other than Yvonne join them in their bed was becoming more of a common occurrence. If it had been Yvonne, Lister wouldn't have minded, but this was one of the TBC, one of Arnold's old friends. Shaking off his weariness and trying to hide his nervousness, Lister put away his overnight bag and stripped out of his clothes, then knelt in front of Arnold. 

His eyes closed as Arnold caressed his cheek. "I can see that you're tired. I have something that will wake you up." 

His cheek and his ass were slapped simultaneously, causing him to groan. His body came alive, his skin tingling as his face was pushed down into Arnold's lap. He sucked at Arnold eagerly, spreading his legs wider as he felt cold slick being forced into him. 

He let himself be gagged and stuffed, his body cinched tight in leather straps and a hand held over his nose and mouth, causing the room to spin and Lister to slip effortlessly into his headspace. He floating on nothing, was nothing, while his body was stretched and beaten, pinched and twisted, bent and worshipped. He rode a high unlike anything he'd ever experienced, never wanting it to end. He felt the cane hitting his thighs, felt the flogger decorate his chest and heard himself begging for more. 

When he was laid down on the bed with his head hanging over the edge, he opened his mouth and swallowed the cock that was stuffed into his throat. Tears streamed from his eyes as he gagged himself on the thick erection, humming happily as he felt the burst of release shoot down his throat. Before he could catch his breath, another erection nudged at his lips and he opened his mouth eagerly, moaning as it slid to the back of his throat. This he knew was Arnold and he took his time, made sure to do everything Arnold liked before swallowing around him. 

"No," Lister moaned as Arnold pulled out before coming. He was gasping for breath, the room spinning as the blood rushed to his head and he strained to reach the bobbing erection just out of reach.

"I have other plans for this, my precious pet," Arnold assured him with a soft slap to his cheek. 

Tears filling his eyes, Lister could only stare and wait. He was rolled over onto his hands and knees with his ass lifted into the air, something sturdy yet soft underneath his stomach offering support. He wailed as the dildo was carefully removed from his ass, immediately switching to a moan as he felt Arnold's cock filling him. His voice failed him as he felt something slide in next to Arnold's flesh; a smaller dildo. He was too weak to buck his hips, muscles too watery to even clench around it, and with a long sigh, he succumbed to the painful, wonderful stretch. 

Time lost all meaning, the push and pull in his ass lulling him deeper into nothingness until he forgot that he had a name. The body Arnold was using didn't belong to him; it belonged to Arnold, and it throbbed and ached and burned with pain. Hands gripped the hips and the body was rocked with the force of Arnold's thrusts, tears falling as Lister felt Arnold come deep inside the body. "Thank you," he breathed, then groaned helplessly as Arnold's weight left him. 

His groan was choked off as fingers added more slick to his ass, then another erection pressed its way inside. The back of his neck was squeezed, forcing his head down as he was stretched and filled, the slam of hips relentless and Lister let himself be carried away on the pain. 

When the pounding stopped, he murmured, "Thank you," though he didn't remember why. He felt himself floating, then landing on something hard and painful and he tried to move away from it.

"Easy, pet," Arnold's voice soothed him. "I'm laying you on your side. Your back is a gorgeous criss cross of marks, but you've earned this." 

He didn't know what his lover meant until he felt a warm mouth slide down his neglected cock. Lister came back to himself with a scream, the welts raised on his chest and back throbbing with heat, the stripes on his ass and thighs burned, and the pleasure being ripped out of his exhausted body felt more like punishment. Ecstasy and agony all rolled into one, and he slipped into unconsciousness as his body overloaded on sensation. 

Lister woke up in Medibay, the numbness of his body letting him know that he was under heavy medication. He was kept in a secluded area while the doctors evaluated his situation, Lister not knowing what they meant until the questions about abuse started. He refused to answer their ignorant questions and demanded to be released. They kept him for three days and denied him all visitors, despite his protests and arguments and throwing anything he could get his hands on. When he tried to leave on his own the second day, they strapped his arms to the bed and silent, angry tears followed him into drugged sleep. 

His dreams while under heavy sedation were even more distorted than normal: the low, warm heat as Arnold spanked him; bursts of laughter and teasing kisses; endless, breathless chants of _Dave_ ; and the most bizarre of all – his forehead resting on Arnold's back, his gaze fixated on his cock disappearing inside his lover. It was a relief when he woke up from those strange dreams, but he couldn't help but feel like something was missing. 

Maria was at his side, as she had been the whole three days, though she had wisely kept her mouth shut. "Am I finally going home?" he snapped impatiently. At the doctor's nod, he sat up a bit too eagerly, wincing as he pulled the skin on his back. 

"Here's a list of instructions for cleaning and tending to the welts, and enough pain medication to last you until you're fully healed." He frowned as her hand gripped his and her eyes begged him. "Please, cariño, you need to be more careful. He could have permanently injured you if that cane had landed just once in the wrong place." 

"I trust him," he replied as he concentrated on pulling on his clothes without making a sound. The drugs were wearing off and he felt each of his pulled muscles beneath the deep bruises on top of the burning patches of skin. 

"I know you do. I just hope that trust isn't misplaced." He closed his eyes as she placed a kiss on his forehead; her normal way of formally dismissing him. "I don’t want to see you back in here." 

Her familiar words comforted him and he flashed a quick smile, though he couldn't answer her with words. His throat was too tight as he spied Arnold outside the Medibay, anxiously waiting for him. 

As Lister recuperated in their bed, Arnold doting on him the entire time. His lover brought him special desserts and chocolate treats, but it was the words of praise that Lister gobbled up and hoarded, cherishing every 'precious pet' and 'gorgeous' and 'mine'. The healing balm was smoothed over his skin as lovingly as the flogger, pressed into his skin as deeply as the cane, and Lister honestly couldn't tell which he preferred. 

=-=-=-=

The first time Arnold whispered the demand, Lister had been teetering on the edge of orgasm, Arnold's hand at the snap to the cock ring holding it back. Too strung out on pain and the promise of release, Lister had groaned out the words, "My Emperor," not caring what it meant. 

The second time Arnold demanded it, Lister had his mouth stretched around Carlito's cock and Tyrese's buried in his ass. He couldn't pull off until Carlito had come, but by then, the leather strap had already landed across his shoulders in disapproval. "I'm sorry, my Emperor," he gasped as the strap kissed his skin again, groaning and shoving himself backwards onto Tyrese. 

Lister existed in a twilight world, his memories and dreams confusing. He was stretched across the St. Andrew's while Arnold fed him chocolate squares. He was curled up in bed with the Emperor while coarse rope dug into his wrists and ankles. He gagged on the Emperor's cock while Arnold shared a mouthful of wine in a kiss. The Emperor spread his cheeks wide to wiggle his tongue in his ass while Arnold snapped the cane against the bottom of his feet. And through it all, there were flashes of bright, sterile white and a sharp smell. 

The Emperor told him the strange dreams were unimportant, so Lister pushed the disjointed thoughts away and resumed giving his lover his wake up blow job. Nothing could spoil today, as the Emperor had promised to take him to the observation dome for his twenty-ninth birthday. 

Lister dressed in his new leather trousers and an old shirt and followed a step behind the Emperor. The ship looked different from what he remembered; the air seemed closer, the walls darker and the corridors were empty. Lister was used to the ship bustling with life, shouts of laughter and groans of pleasure echoing along the corridors, but now there was only silence. 

"Where is everyone?" he asked as he fell further behind, slowing down to peer into what used to be the mess hall. The tables and chairs had been removed and the raised platform pulled into the middle of the room. 

"It's a surprise," the Emperor informed him, the teasing smile warming Lister's heart. 

It was a long climb to the dome and Lister had only seen two people, who nodded respectfully at his lover. His glance slid off the guns the men held, unconcerned with anyone hurting him when he was with the Emperor. 

The stairs leading up to the dome were dimly lit, to help the eyes adjust to the darkness. As Lister stepped up into the dome, he gasped; the inky black sky had turned almost white with stars, a brilliant skyscape that brought tears to his eyes. "It's gorgeous," he breathed as he turned in a circle, trying to take it all in at once. 

"It's yours," the Emperor announced quietly. "The sky; the stars; I'd collect them all and give them to you as a small token of my affection." 

Lister turned to look at his lover and started to shake with pent-up emotion; the stars were reflected in the Emperor's eyes, but his love outshone even their brilliance. 

"I love this. I love you," Lister stated shakily. "I try to show you how much, but everything I do feels so inadequate to express my devotion to you. I only have myself to give and I offer myself freely; completely and only to you." 

His breathing deepened as the Emperor stepped closer, the starlight shifting in his hair, making the curls seem alive. "Such a beautiful offer," his lover murmured, running his fingers along Lister's jaw. "From such a beautiful man. I want to make love to you beneath the stars." As the Emperor's hand slipped around the back of his neck, Lister surged forward, licking his way inside his lover's mouth. 

He took his time removing the Emperor's clothes, shifting so that his own shirt and trousers could puddle on the floor at his feet. Lister sank to his knees to remove their shoes, then gently sucked the length of flesh into his mouth. He teased and hummed until his lover was hard, then stood back up and kissed the pendant resting at the Emperor's throat. 

He was kissed deeply, urgently; the Emperor's knuckles rubbing against his cheek as he was ordered quietly, "Turn around. Place your hands on the rail." 

He moaned softly as his lover prepared him, shifting his hips as he grew restless with need. Staring out at the unending stars, Lister groaned his pleasure to the ages as he felt the stretch of his lover joining with him. His heart and his body full, he kept his eyes on the stars as the Emperor's thrusts grew more impatient, as his own body's demands made themselves known. 

Lister gripped the rail harder as he was pressed against it, the Emperor's hands covering his as their bodies moved as one. "Smeg, come with me. Now," was growled in his ear, and his body obeyed. 

He leaned weakly over the rail, held up by the Emperor still at his back. His shoulder stung where his lover had bit it and a fine tremor ran through his muscles as he stood on the balls of his feet. When the Emperor stepped back, he gratefully sank to his knees and ran the flat of his tongue up the softened length. "Thank you," he kissed into his lover's abdomen. His eyes closed as long fingers buried themselves in his hair, wrapping his arms around the Emperor's legs and sighing contentedly. 

They spent the rest of the day in the dome, feeding each other the lunch the Emperor had sent for and then making love twice more. Once with Lister on his hands and knees, the last time with Lister lying back on the floor so he could watch the stars as he was brought to a devastating orgasm. 

Covered in sweat and dirt and bruises, Lister had never felt more loved. He clung to the Emperor, whispering his devotion and his love into the slick skin. 

"Do you truly love me?" The Emperor asked.

"Until the stars burn out of the sky," he answered with a kiss to the side of his lover's neck.

The Emperor pushed up until he could look down into Lister's eyes. "If I ask something of you, would you do it without hesitation?" 

Lister carded his fingers through his lover's hair. "Anything you desire and more." 

He groaned as he was pulled to his feet, only bothering to half dress before following the Emperor down the stairs, carrying his shoes and shirt. He hummed to himself, watching the sway of his lover's ass encased in black velour as they walked the corridors. They took a different route that didn't lead back to their quarters, but would take them straight to the recreation deck. Lister grinned and started walking faster. Not that he didn't love having time to himself with the Emperor, but this was the last year of his 20s and he wanted to celebrate with his friends. 

As they got nearer the door, Lister could hear moans, groans and even the shouts of pleasure and his grin widened. The tease of warm air wafting from the room tasted spicy and tickled his nose like a sneeze. Before he could rush inside, his arm was clasped and he was pressed into the wall, staring up in confusion at the Emperor's downcast expression. He cupped the smooth face and ran his thumb over the sharp cheekbone. "What is it, love?" 

The Emperor toyed with his dreads as he admitted, "I've been selfishly keeping you to myself all day and never once asked what it was you desired for your birthday." 

Lister chuckled and pulled his lover down for a kiss. "I desire _you_ , whether it's my birthday or not." 

"I know, my pet, but surely there's _some_ fantasy you've secretly harbored. One you haven't even told me." The hazel eyes studied Lister and he shivered at their intensity. "You've allowed me to live out my fantasies; let me help you with one of yours." 

The Emperor had been his fantasy for as long as he could remember, but as the sounds from the open door rose and fell in a wave of arousal, Lister was thrown back to his first month on board, when only the women would pay attention to him. A fan of dark hair and a pinball smile shone down on him as the strap-on dildo stretched him open. Her legs squeezing his waist as he buried himself in her. His choked-off cries as she sucked him down. The taste of her juices as she bucked against his mouth. Her perfect little ass off-limits, not even the tip of his finger allowed between those firm, round cheeks. "Kris," he breathed, his eyes snapping to his lover's with a wide grin. "You'll help me with whatever I want?" 

The hazel eyes lit in childish glee, but the smile was purely wicked. "Anything you desire." 

In between nibbles to the Emperor's ear, Lister outlined what he wanted. With a lingering kiss and a slap to his ass, Lister was sent into the room to enjoy what remained of his birthday with his friends. 

The next morning, Lister woke up in his own bed with no recollection of how he got there, but the aches and stickiness were evidence of a night well spent. The soft body he was tucked up against was not the Emperor, but Kris. He rubbed his thumb along her nipple and she murmured, settling further back against his chest. He swept his hand up her arm until his fingers brushed against the edge of the wrist cuffs still chained to the headboard, then down her stomach to curl inside her, already feeling her growing wet. He shifted his leg between her thighs and she rubbed against him, starting to waken. He nudged against another set of legs, lifting his head enough to see his lover smirking at him. "Good morning," the Emperor purred, passing him the bottle of slick. 

Lister returned the smirk. "It will be," he promised as he licked at the marks on Kris' shoulder while he prepped her for another round. Her moans were swallowed by the Emperor as Lister stretched her ass, her moans rising in volume as his lover pressed inside her slick pussy and rolled them over so Kris was on top. It took patience and some wiggling, but finally, they were both seated inside her. Trapped between them, Kris could only wail and scream as they double teamed her, her orgasms ripping through her again and again until the Emperor came with a deep groan. Lister felt his lover's pulsations and his body ached to come, but he anchored his fingers into the forming bruises on Kris's hips and didn't move until he was given permission. Only then did he let himself go, emptying himself into her ass for the second time. 

He pulled out carefully, pressing a kiss between her shoulder blades at her whimper. As the Emperor rolled Kris onto her side, Lister pressed him back to the bed and licked him clean, humming his appreciation at the combined flavors. He ignored Kris' muffled protest as he kissed her, wiping the tears and straggly hair from her face. "Thank you for a great birthday," he kissed her one last time, licking the last taste of his lover out of her mouth. 

"Tyrese will see you back to your quarters," the Emperor dismissed her, and Lister forgot everything else at the light shining in his lover's eyes. 

Lister sighed at the kisses to his wrists, cheeks, then mouth as he was chained to the wall, then groaned as his chest was painted with strips of leather until his legs buckled from the pain. He begged to be let down when the Emperor left him hanging for ten minutes; then fifteen. After twenty minutes, he was incoherent with the radiating pain and his aching erection, reduced to gibbering nonsense. At the next sting of the leather, he howled and strained upward into the motion, mindlessly pleading for more. His cries of pain morphed into encouraging, thankful moans as his body was lifted and stretched, holding onto the chains as his body bent with the Emperor's hard thrusts. Tears slid down his face as he sank into _needed_ and _wanted_ and _loved_ , the unnatural strain and twisting of his body forgotten as he heard his lover's groan of completion. 

His legs were lowered with the utmost care until his feet rested on the floor. Lister's head fell forward as his legs gave out again, only a tiny whimper escaping as his wrists jammed into the cuffs holding him up. Another whimper at his lover's hand wrapped loosely around his erection and the quietly ordered, "Make yourself come." 

Bracing himself, Lister began to thrust, each torturous movement dragging a wail out of him. The touch wasn't enough, but he could see the eager anticipation in the Emperor's eyes through his tears and that _was_. His legs crumpled beneath him as his body jerked through its wrung-out orgasm. 

The Emperor held him up as he was released, then he was carried into the bath and luxuriated in the steaming hot water. He was scrubbed from head to toe, then massaged from foot to neck, the healing balm's coldness shocking after the heat of the water and the flogging. He could only moan softly as fingers reapplied slick to his ass, then a wide plug was worked into him. He arched back into the pressure, gasping when the widest part slipped inside. 

Drowsy, satiated and well-loved, Lister was tucked back into bed with the Emperor at his back, holding him tightly. At the Emperor's dark promise, "You're mine forever," tears of happiness tracked down Lister's face to the corner of his mouth, leaving a bitter aftertaste on his tongue.


	5. Hero Reborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rimmer has one more lesson to learn.

Arnold's sketch pad had fallen on its side and the pages fanned out enough that Lister could make out some of the drawings. He sat on the floor, forgetting about his frantic search for his exam notes as his gaze roamed over the exquisite likenesses of…himself. 

Now he knew why Arnold had never asked him to pose. The first drawing was of him sleeping on his stomach, his head pillowed in his arms and his knee crooked out to the side. The next was of him sat at the desk, thumbnail between his teeth as he concentrated on the monitor before him. The third was a series of body parts; Arnold must have been practicing muscle definition. The curve of his elbow, his shoulder, his thigh, his foot—all drawn to precise detail and shading. The next drawing left him breathless: just the lower part of his torso to the middle of his thighs, his cock and balls had been recreated in the most life-like, loving way. The veins and skin texture could have been a photograph, and he half expected the drawn cock to fill and rise like the one in his trousers was doing. 

As he traced the elegant signature, _Arnold Rimmer, BA (Hons)_ , the paper beneath his hands started to crackle and burn. Lister scrambled backward as flames licked up his arms, his shout sticking in his throat. Thick smoke burned his eyes as he crawled along the hot metal floor, trying to find the door. His hand slipped on a trail of blood and he followed it to the fingers, then the shattered arm, then the crushed head. Lister drew in ragged breaths but couldn't scream, couldn't make anything but choking sounds as he wiped blood away from the broken eye socket. The curls were matted with blood, the skin half torn off Arnold's skull, sections of his brain exposed to the noxious air. 

An inhuman scream pierced the air as white light sparked all over Arnold's body. Lister felt the sting of a cane across his shoulders as the Emperor's hands circled his throat; the bloody, empty eye socket and one hazel eye leering down at him. Lister's fingers sank into the Emperor's arm, pulling away hunks of flesh as he tried to loosen the grip crushing his wind pipe. He heard faint laughter as his body convulsed, arms flailing uselessly at the unfathomable pain of his body being split in two. 

Lister gasped awake, his body shaking with uncontrollable tears. The disturbing images slowly faded as he became aware of his surroundings; the quiet voices and familiar smells of the Medibay at once comforting and distressing. A soothing hand stroked his head, helping to dispel the nightmare. His mouth tasted cottony and his tongue felt too thick—the aftereffects of medication. Terrified of the answer, he asked with a voice rough with disuse, "How long this time?" 

At Maria's soft lilt, he opened his eyes to a sideways view of her white lab coat. "I kept you sedated two days to give you a thorough examination and to let you rest. You needed only a few stitches this time." 

Lingering pain echoed in his limbs, but he couldn't remember the details of how he'd ended up in Medibay this time. A shiver set his skin to crawling gooseflesh as the screams from his nightmare sounded faintly in his mind. "Can I go home now?" he pled as he stared unseeing at a buttonhole, anxious at being away for so long. The Emperor didn't like…

Panic rose in his throat, constricted his chest and stopped his heart. 

The Emperor. 

It was the Emperor's screams that assaulted his mind. 

Screams that abruptly stopped mid-breath, leaving an oppressive stillness. 

The release of the pressure against his neck. The agony as he tried to move his legs. A glimpse of a horrified expression that didn't belong on that face. 

Shocking, sudden _wrongness_ as a vortex of nothingness swallowed him whole. 

All around him, emptiness. Darkness. Blankness. 

A soft keening accompanied the flood of tears as he remembered the true horror of his nightmare: _He'd lost Arnold all over again_.

His wails grew louder as Maria cupped his cheek and smoothed her thumb over his tear tracks. "I want you to rest here, cariño. You're going to need a lot of love and care to start the healing process, Dave." 

_Dave_. The name was as unfamiliar to him as the emotions it dredged up. It belonged to another man in another time with another life. "Dave died three years ago," he rasped. 

He turned his face into the pillow as Maria leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead. Her voice held the familiar cadence of pity and kindness as she murmured, "I know you did, Dave. But now it's time for you to live again."

As her warmth withdrew, he sank into the darkness that had claimed him for its own. 

=-=-=-=-=

" _Dave died three years ago_."

Tears stung Rimmer's eyes as he heard Lister's flat, dead tone filter through the curtain separating him from the rest of the Medibay. It was too familiar—the same intoned defeat that Rimmer had used when his discipline-obsessed father rattled off the many flaws of his disappointment of a youngest son. That inflection spoke of being beaten down, stripped of your individuality, cropped and shaped to fit into someone else's definition of who you were. Though Rimmer knew very little about this dimension, he had no doubt the Emperor was the one to destroy Lister's identity.

His skin crawled with revulsion, distracting him from the jumping muscle in his thigh. _How?_ How could that sadistic, evil maniac be _him_  ? How could they have come from the same template? He wasn't anything like the Emperor. He didn't lust for power. He didn't want people genuflecting at his feet. He didn't want to be feared, worshipped or… 

Rimmer curled in on himself, cradling his fractured hand to his chest as he recalled a planet of his own clones. _Smeg_. Even if he _had_ wanted those things, he was a sniveling coward. His lust for power remained in the realm of fantasy, lording over his enemies with his imagination, not the heel of his boot. But he had absolutely no taste for the Emperor's other lusts. 

A shudder ran through him. Sure, he'd had the odd dream where he'd been tied up and nibbled by scantily clad nymphomaniacs; who didn't? And of _course_ , he'd had the dream where he'd been forced to make love to a colony of alien women to repopulate their dying species. None of that meant he wanted to tie someone to a bed and whip them, or shove them to their knees and make them suck him off, or watch the impression of his handprint appear on their skin. 

His breathing grew ragged as his eyes slipped closed. What would it look like; his handprint on Lister's skin? Would it leave a reddened mark? Would his hand tingle? Would Lister make that sound for him—that low moan that vibrated in his bones? 

Rimmer buried his head in the pillow, tears leaking from between his tightly closed eyes. _He shouldn't be thinking these thoughts!_ They were disgusting and wrong. They were degrading and repulsive and so smegging _hot_...

The sound of the curtain being pulled back had him hastily wiping his eyes. It had been two days since he'd woken up in the Medibay, disoriented and yelling for Lister, and he had no more control now than he did then. His mind bounced from memory to fantasy, never settling for very long. He was used to deliberate, ordered thoughts; mulling over ideas for hours, sometimes days, before deciding on a course of action. Even as Ace, he had often taken too long in planning and had, more than once, nearly missed his window of opportunity. It was exhausting him to always have his mind racing at top speed and he was giving serious thought to Doctor Hernandez's urgings to talk to the ship's psychologist before he lost the plot completely. 

The doctor had been understanding about his mood swings, sympathetic even, but if she knew what he'd been thinking about her other patient…his face heated with embarrassment and he dutifully rolled onto his back and presented his arm, hating the tightness he felt around his eyes from his tears.

Instead of her usual chatter, the doctor remained subdued as she set up the dermal regenerator and unwrapped the bandage from his wrist. He kept his eyes closed as it felt like thousands of ants crawling over his skin, reminding him too much of being buried in sandpits by his brothers.

"This doesn't hurt, does it?" the doctor's concern startled his eyes open.

She was regarding him with her large, dark eyes, clearly searching for something but he didn't know what. "No," he answered, though it itched like crazy.

She glanced down at the machine and made an adjustment. "Your face is pinched and you're clenching the sheets." 

He immediately flexed his fingers, only then realizing she was right and pain bloomed from his fractured hand. As he pressed his lips together to stop an undignified yelp escaping, his mind raced through possible lies, truths and half-truths. He didn't trust anyone in this dimension, though Doctor Hernandez had only been kind to him. "Bad childhood memories," he hedged, not willing to say more. 

She applied more of the healing cream and rewrapped his wrist before stating, "I would suggest talking to Karyn about it, but I fear my words continue to fall on deaf ears." She tutted as she moved the machine around to the other side of the bed. "You think nothing of healing your body. Why will you not consider that your mind needs the same level of care?" 

His stomach twisted as he nervously licked his lips. "If—and I stress _if_ —I chose to talk to a complete stranger…what would she do?" 

The doctor didn't look up from where she'd removed his splint and was inspecting his hand. "She would listen. She would understand. She is not there to pass judgment or berate the choices we make. She is there to help us untangle the thoughts that plague our dreams; to help us answer the questions that will not silence in our heads." She paused to place his wrist gently beneath the regenerator and start the machine. "She is there so that we know we are not the first to experience such things. But most importantly, she is there so that we know we are not alone." 

As the _dancing ants_ feeling chased itself up his arm, numbness spread down his left thigh. He grit his teeth and willed it to pass quickly, trying not to give in to the helpless feeling that was clawing its way up his spine. 

If only he _were_ alone. In waking and in his dreams, he was plagued by visceral images that left him half-hard and nauseated. If it wasn't the Emperor slicing the skin from his back with the whip, it was Lister's soft, yielding lips gently sucking his erection. It was cruel hands pinning his shoulders to the bed and Lister's warm breath against his neck. It was guileless, beautiful eyes ensnaring him while the Emperor shoved the dildo into his arse. It was Lister's indifference while the Emperor rammed his dick down his throat. 

Rimmer started to hyperventilate as the terrifying, dangerous thought he'd repressed burst to life: It had been so _gratifying_ to watch the Emperor dance for him. He should feel remorse for taking another life, but all he felt was hatred for what his doppelganger had done to him, to Lister and to McGruder. Hatred, and satisfaction at ridding the universe of that monster. 

Disgusted with himself, he pulled his hand away before the doctor could finish rewrapping his bandages. "Why are you trying to help me?" he questioned through a dry throat, fresh tears stinging his eyes. "I should be under guard. I murdered the Emperor. I should be locked away…"

" _No_ , pobrecito. There will be no cell and there are no more guards. The last of those that did not surrender have been confined in their quarters." He flinched as her hand smoothed along his fake hair that had stayed perfectly in place through everything. He eyed her warily as she settled on the edge of his bed. "What happened…it is very complicated and a very long story. Arnold had served on this ship for 14 years and was loved by nearly everyone. His death was a tragedy, made more tragic by those he left behind. What he became at the end was not his doing. It was simply not meant to be and all you did was accelerate a dying hologram's death. You will not be punished for putting down an animal in pain."

"But I didn't know he was a hologram," he protested as the tears spilled over, blurring her concerned expression. "I thought he was alive and I…I killed him." 

She touched him gently on the shoulder. "You were raped. You have lost most of the skin along your wrists where the shackles scraped them raw. You have internal bruising. You had bruises on your cheek, jaw and throat. You have muscle and nerve damage from the misuse of the spinal implant as a torture device. In my eyes, and the eyes of any court of justice, you were acting to defend yourself from further attack." 

More hot tears slipped down his cheeks as every thought he ever had crammed into his head at once. "But what…" the rest of his protest was muffled by her quick kiss. Stunned silent, he could only look at her as she smiled sadly. 

"It was self defense, cariño. And in the defense of a stranger, who we all care deeply about. That is why I help you." His voice was lost as she applied cream to his wrist, rewrapped it and secured the splint around his hand. His chest constricted as she pressed a kiss to his forehead, her fingers tickling as she pushed back the fringe of hair. "Rest with an easy heart, Ace Rimmer. Some would say you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, but I believe you were exactly where you needed to be. I only wish I'd had the courage to stop him before he began." 

With that cryptic remark, the doctor left him alone, secluded away from the rest of the crew. Before the curtain had settled, he was tucked up in a ball, crying silent tears. The word she'd used, the one he'd deliberately avoided thinking, rattled around in his head: _raped_. She didn't know—couldn't know—what had happened on that bed in that room. She had to have been referring to the show that he and Lister had put on for the room full of people, but that didn't make it any less true. He muffled his despondent wails in the pillow as he trembled with uncontrollable tears, eventually exhausting himself to a fitful sleep. 

=-=-=-=

Rimmer was startled fully awake by what sounded like the tinkling of metal against metal and his hand flew to his throat, expecting to feel the leather band choking him as he hung from the thin chains. Heart racing, he listened for further sounds, but heard nothing. 

He found himself on his feet, the fingers of his good hand curled around the edge of the curtain. His hand was shaking, sending a slight flutter through the curtain. Cautiously he peeked around the edge, but didn't see anyone. 

Not even Lister. 

In the dim night lighting of the Medibay, he saw Lister's empty bed and the sheet half dragged onto the floor. Adrenaline flooded him—so concerned that he would be mistaken for the Emperor if he stepped foot outside the Medibay, he hadn't considered that Lister might be a target for revenge. Ace instincts on full alert, he gave a sweeping glance to the room, trying to pinpoint anything out of place. Along the cabinets near the door, one of the drawers was open. He strode swiftly over and his heart leapt into his throat: fresh blood stained the edge of a knife on top of the disturbed rows of instruments. 

His left hand curled around the knife handle and he stepped out into the corridor, unsure which way to go. What he thought was a faint smear of blood along the wall to his right sent him jogging that way, his mind racing through the layout of the ship and where the corridor led. 

He didn't hear any sounds of struggle, but whoever had taken Lister might have drugged him to keep him quiet. He slid along the wall, dark thoughts of what he'd do to the smeggers driving him on. 

At another corridor junction, he paused and listened. Not hearing anything, he wracked his brain to recall the level and where the corridors led…

 _Smeg!_ He broke into a run down the left corridor, ignoring the surges of numbness that threatened his hold on the knife and his pace. Too late, he'd realized that Lister hadn't been taken. Lister had left of his own accord and he was heading straight for…

As Rimmer turned right at the next junction, he spied the familiar form at the airlock and screeched, "Lister, don't!" 

Still running at full speed, the corridor seemed to stretch exponentially longer, the lone figure of Lister getting smaller and smaller as Rimmer helplessly watched Lister open the inner airlock door. "Lister!" he yelled again, but Lister didn't even pause, just walked into the airlock. 

Rimmer crashed full force into the closing inner door with his right shoulder, groaning as his whole body vibrated with the impact. He wedged himself in the doorway to hold it open, but Lister had both hands on the locking lever, trying to force the door closed. "Smeg, Lister, _stop_ ," he wheezed as metal bit into his chest and back, the pinch on his body unbearable. " _Please_ , Lister," he begged, flailing his broken hand toward the lever, but it was too far away.

"Beg me." Rimmer barely heard Lister over the creak of his bones and his grunts of pain. 

"Lister, please," he groaned as his vision started to grow dark, unable to breathe through the pain and the pressure against his lungs. 

Lister's face was wet with tears and his arms were shaking, but he didn't seem to be seeing anything. His stare was vacant and each word was agonizing to hear, ripped from some dark, broken place inside. "Beg for _more_. Beg for _harder_. Beg me to break you in two. _BEG ME!_ " 

Rimmer couldn't draw another breath. "Lis…" _Dave died three years ago_. He closed his eyes and breathed out, "Pet." 

The vice-like pressure vanished and Rimmer collapsed to the floor, drawing in huge breaths. The strange wheeze and sharp pain informed him something was broken, but he needed to find Lister. They were still in the airlock and he swore he'd heard the hiss of the inner door sealing. 

He tried to see through his swirling vision, but he could only make out a fuzzy white blob that had to be Lister's hospital gown. Moving was excruciating, but he pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily on the wall to steady himself. Lister was just in front of him at the controls to release the outer airlock. 

Lister yelled incoherently as his fist pounded at the release button, but a warning light flashed above it and a computerized voice repeated, "Error." 

Rimmer fell onto Lister's back and wrapped his arms around his chest, but Lister was ferociously strong, a feral animal trapped in a cage. " _No!_ Let me go. _Let me go!_ " Lister screamed hysterically as he thrashed and heaved in Rimmer's arms. 

Rimmer stumbled back into the wall, using it to brace himself as he tightened his hold around Lister, gritting his teeth against the stabs of pain in his chest. Lister continued to buck and kick, crying, "Let me go! _Please_ , smeg, let me go. You _have_ to let me go. I can't…" Lister's struggles started to lose their vehemence and his voice dropped to a ragged plea. "Let me go. Just let me go. You need to…to let me...go." 

Lister let out one final wail before collapsing and dragging Rimmer down to the floor with him, weeping with the desolation of a man who had nothing left, not even his name.

Body flooded with layers of pain, Rimmer could barely hold the inconsolable man. Not knowing what to do, he stared unseeing at the floor, finally focusing on the object that shouldn't be there. A small tangle of black cord attached to the pendant that used to hang around Lister's neck, all of it smeared with blood. 

His gaze flew to Lister's neck, spotting the drying trickle of blood from a jagged cut and the stains down the front of his gown. He pressed his lips together to stop his scream of rage, wishing the Emperor was still alive so he could kill the bastard all over again. 

His vision started to grow dark and he felt unconsciousness creeping up on him. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but his lungs ached with every attempt at a breath. Lister was still weeping quietly and had made no attempt to get back up, but that didn't mean…Rimmer toppled sideways to the floor, losing the battle. 

=-=-=-=-=

Rimmer breathed deeply, each inhale gloriously pain-free as he floated in a sea of painkillers. He had a cast on his now properly broken hand and four cracked ribs, plus two deep cuts across his back and chest where the metal had dug in. At least that's what the doctor had told him. He couldn't feel a smegging thing. 

"Why?" 

He heard the quiet plea through the curtain, but that couldn't have been Lister. That voice was child-like, an innocent cry of a small boy who had been abandoned or had his favorite toy taken away. Rimmer licked his dry lips with his too-large tongue, giggling quietly as he ran it over his teeth. 

He tried to picture it; Lister as a wee lad. All chubby cheeks and stinky curry breath and sucking on his thumb. Fishing for condoms when there were no fish. Scrumping for cars because his mates were doing it. Stealing entire hotel rooms because he couldn't say no. Wouldn't say no. 

Rimmer frowned as wee Lister aged rapidly, morphing out of his clothes as the thumb in his mouth grew larger until his lips were stretched thin around it. Rimmer's head swam and dipped as the vision changed again, pleading dark eyes looking up at him. 

"No, Lister," he exclaimed mournfully. "You don't have to. Not anymore. I saved you." 

"You're three years too late to save me," said a voice dragged through broken glass. "Why do you care what happens to me? You don't know smeg about me." The voice hiccupped. "Who do you think you are?" 

"I'm Ace smegging Rimmer," he crowed, feeling his face pull in an odd sort of smile that immediately fell. "Oh, Listy," he sighed. "Even though I don't want to, I care about you. It's my job to keep you sane. That's what Holly said when he brought me back. I was an acceptable technician and a mediocre space hero, but keeping you from going space crazy was the one job I did well." 

Fatigue started to pull at him and Rimmer closed his eyes with a sigh. It was only as he drifted closer to sleep that he remembered that first heartfelt question. _Why what?_ followed him into oblivion.

=-=-=-=-=

The next week passed in a hazy blur as Rimmer mostly slept; a combination of exhaustion and medication taxing his abused body. The doctor spared him a few moments each morning before she made her rounds of the ship, checking on those that had been sealed in the lower decks since the Emperor had taken over. 

Rimmer only learned about the rest of the crew after he'd overheard Doctor Hernandez expressing concern about the long-term effects of the poor air quality in the lower decks. Curious, yet hesitant to hear how else his double had tormented the crew, he nonetheless plucked up the courage and asked the next morning. 

As the doctor untied his tunic to start her examination, he licked his dry lips. "I want to know more about…him," he asked quietly, breath hitching as she pressed along his ribcage. "How he became…what he did to become…" his voice trailed off as he felt the doctor rubbing the healing cream along the shallow indentation along his back. She was silent as she helped him lay flat on his back, applying the cream to the fading yellow and green bruises on his chest and shoulder. The touch should have been clinical, but it was warm and soothing, what Rimmer imagined a mother's gentle touch would be like. 

As Maria helped him back into his tunic, folded it over his chest and retied it, he tried one last time. "Help me understand what happened to your Rimmer, so I don't turn out like that. Please." 

Finally, her detached expression softened. "I know you could never do that, cariño, but to ease your mind, I'll send over Karyn later this afternoon. She can answer any questions you have—any at all." 

True to Doctor Hernandez's word, Karyn met with him just after lunch. "As you may have guessed, not much was recorded once the Emperor took over. What I have been able to determine has been from speaking with individuals over the past few days and sorting out rumors from truth over the past few years. It may be weeks or even months before we know what really happened, but I can tell you what I've been able to confirm as truth. Where would you like to start?" 

Rimmer had thought of little else since that morning. "How the Emperor took over a ship this size." As Ace, he'd failed at knocking out one pilot and stealing the small transport. Succeeding with something as large as _Red Dwarf_ with a crew in the hundreds was mind-boggling. 

Karyn took a moment to gather her thoughts, then began to relate the horrific tale succinctly, her expression barely changing. Though she seemed unaffected by her words, Rimmer felt nauseated. 

Rather than one big coup like he'd imagined, the Emperor had succeeded in overtaking the crew by subtle manipulation. Months of strategic negotiations and bribery had given him enough weapons and muscle to take the drive room. While the crew slept, the Emperor simply sealed off the lower decks, trapping the crew he couldn't control and leaving him access to those he could. 

The military strategist in Rimmer admired the tactical move, but he couldn't help but think of the people. Not just the crew, but those they left behind in the solar system. The Emperor hadn't just stolen the ship and pushed the engines to maximum to outrun any help sent their way: with one perfect lie, he made sure no one would ever come after _Red Dwarf_. 

A radiation leak. Rimmer's stomach started a constant, slow turn at learning that. The Emperor had programmed a recurring warning about a radiation leak on board, eerily reminiscent of Holly's bleak droning. No one could confirm it because no one dared approach the ship. In the span of a few hours, the entire ship was the Emperor's to control. 

Under the application of the spinal implant, a careful selection of Lister's friends had been coerced into swearing allegiance to the Emperor. With Lister's friends terrified of further torture, the Emperor could freely walk with Lister at his side, putting on a show of normalcy for his lover. 

Even with the threat of prolonged torment for any hint of disobedience, two men made an assassination attempt on the Emperor. The first use of the mess hall as a showcase for the Emperor's power was broadcast on every monitor on the ship, with the volume on high so everyone could hear the screams of the two prisoners being punished. The Emperor and his guards took turns beating them with the whip and cane, but the Emperor himself raped them with the whip handle. The monitors stayed on until the prisoners were released from their bonds and their unconscious bodies carted to Medibay.

Only one more attempt was made on the Emperor's life, about five months after the first failed effort. The bullet had gone straight through the Emperor's shoulder and the woman had been easily captured, but her punishment was far worse than the previous would-be assassins. 

The Emperor had her bound with a vibrator strapped inside her and a gag stuffed into her mouth. Guards on either side of her made sure her eyes remained open and focused on the blindfolded Lister as he was brought into the mess hall, his arms tightly bound behind his back. Lister was shoved to the floor, his head held down as the spinal implant was pushed into the back of his neck. The prisoner's body was forced to orgasm again and again as she watched Lister writhing on the floor, screaming as though his limbs were being torn from their sockets. The monitors stayed on Lister's unconscious body as it was dragged from the room. 

Karyn's voice was still calm and even as she finished, "That was a year and a half ago. Since then, no one challenged the Emperor. We obeyed his every demand without question, not for fear of punishment ourselves, but punishment of Dave." 

Rimmer breathed shallowly, trying to hold back the nausea. He had listened in quiet horror, unable to interrupt Karyn's disquieting remembrances of life on board the ship the past two years. His limbs twitched in ghost pain at hearing that Lister had been tortured the same way he had been tortured, and his mind snapped back to the blood boiling in his veins. His stomach gurgled and he started to retch. Karyn steadied him as he was sick in the bin until all that remained were dry heaves. 

When his throat was raw and his stomach ached with cramps, Karyn helped him to lie back on the bed. He held onto his side as he breathed shallowly, but the strain on his broken ribs was excruciating. He dimly heard her say she was getting the doctor, but he couldn't focus on anything but the pain. He groaned with every agonizing breath and the room spun crazily as nausea threatened again. He barely felt his mouth and chin being wiped clean, quietly crying as pain filled every part of him. 

"I never knew why I was punished," Lister's low voice murmured as the gentle hand continued to wipe at his clammy skin. "I never knew…any of it. I never knew that he gained control of the ship or that he threatened the crew. I guess maybe I thought it was all an elaborate game he set up." The cloth stilled briefly, then smoothed over his forehead. "I didn't want to know. It was easier to pretend, to let him take control, to follow where he led. If I'd thought about it, if I'd questioned even the slightest thing...the illusion would have shattered. I would have seen what he'd become and I would have hated myself." 

Rimmer forced his eyes open, staring up at the crippling devastation on Lister's face. Tears wet Lister's cheeks as he continued, "I loved him so much that I thought I couldn't live without him. When he…died," his voice and hand faltered, "I only thought about myself. My pain, my loss, my empty existence. I brought him back and damned the consequences. I damned my friends—everyone, to a living hell with my selfishness. I may as well have tortured those people myself. Look at what I did to you…" 

Lister's hand stilled and it wasn't until they both looked down that Rimmer realized he'd taken hold of Lister's wrist. Without looking up, Lister demanded softly, "Why him and not me?" 

Pain roiled through Rimmer, and past and present merged in a strange, blurry fog. Lister's cheekiness right after he'd been brought out of stasis. Lister's subdued pride as he hugged the newest Ace Rimmer goodbye. The softness in Lister's eyes right before he kissed him, turning his whole universe upside down. The inhuman gleam in the Emperor's eye as he brutalized Lister and Lister's cries that compelled him to action. "You," Rimmer wheezed, gritting his teeth as the muscles in his arm started to spasm. "He was…killing…you."

Lister pulled out of his grasp as hurried footsteps drew closer. "Maybe you should have let him," was whispered brokenly, but Rimmer couldn't answer as his stomach cramped. It was only the doctor's quick movements that saved him from choking on his own sick. A hypo-gun was jammed into his shoulder and within seconds, the nausea faded. A second hypo-gun was pressed against his neck and blessed, pain-free sleep beckoned to him. 

When he woke, the lights were down in the Medibay, but there were two glittering points of light in the murky darkness at his bedside, watching him. 

"I wasn't a helpless victim," Lister declared in a hard, disgusted voice. "I played the part when he demanded it, but I never _felt_ it. It wasn't that I chose to do it, either. There was never any _choice_. He never asked and I never protested. I was never forced to do anything. I did it all  
willingly—fucking, sucking, submitting, seducing—including setting a trap for unsuspecting ships who wandered too close." 

At Lister's words, Rimmer's stomach plummeted but the nausea didn't come; just a chilling dread that seized his heart. 

The hardness in Lister's voice slipped to soft remembrance. "He took me to the drive room, where he'd promised to fuck me in the captain's chair. Only Ozzie was already in the captain's chair, waiting. I watched as he fucked her in that chair, _my_ chair, and I couldn't touch myself. When he finished with her, he looked back at me and his eyes were still hungry. Still _needy_. He shoved her out of the room, then told me to clean the chair. I could hear him breathing over me as I licked it clean, their taste and smell overpowering and making me harder. Then he hauled me into that chair and beat my ass with his belt. He pushed me so far into my headspace I just kept begging him to hit me harder." 

Rimmer didn't want to picture it, but he saw his own hand bringing the folded belt down on Lister's ass, reddening the skin in thin strips. He felt Lister's struggles as he tried to arch into the pain, that same look on Lister's face as when the Emperor's hand had first landed on his ass—grateful. Rimmer's eyes closed as he sank into the fantasy, ignoring the sting of tears behind his eyelids. 

"I was rock hard and ready to do whatever he asked," Lister continued in a voice heavy with arousal. "Faking some message about being held against my will was easy compared to some of the things I'd done. My reward was…glorious. He knelt us on that chair and he fucked my sore ass until I couldn't breathe. When he told me to come it was with his hand squeezing my dick. It had been nine days since he'd let me come and I nearly passed out from the intense release. He carried me back to our room and massaged the balm onto my blistered ass until I was crying. He kissed my tears and I fell asleep with his hands still gripping my ass." 

Rimmer groaned softly at the images Lister was painting, the air thickened with lust and their combined body heat on the chair. The ache in Lister's balls as he was finally allowed to come; the relief and the gratitude after being held back for so long. The power of controlling someone so utterly they _begged you_  to keep hurting them. 

Something niggled at the back of his mind; something he was missing, but the images were so _vivid_   that he couldn't see anything else. Feel anything else. 

Rimmer shifted on the bed, hoping to relieve the pressure in his uncomfortably tight pajama bottoms. He was too warm and his ribs pinched with each ragged breath, but he couldn't stop picturing his hands on Lister's ass, slapping and rubbing the hot, reddened skin. 

Lister's voice was almost breathless, an enticing counterpoint to Rimmer's wild imaginings. "A few months later, he came into our room bouncing with energy, excited about a ship that was about to board us. He outlined his plan and then ordered the guards to take me to the engine room and make me as pitiful and abused-looking as possible. They took great pleasure in stripping me, then grinding the used grease and oil into every crack of my skin, filling my hair and nose and mouth with it as they held me under until I choked. As I coughed it up, two of them took turns fucking my ass while the other one shoved his dick in my mouth, using the excuse that they had to be thorough in making me look abused." 

Lister's breath hitched on a moan that reverberated through Rimmer's entire body and he _had_ to know; _had_ to see. Upon opening his eyes, Rimmer moaned: Lister's head was tipped back, his lust-filled features visible even in the low light of the Medibay. "Only I didn't feel abused; I felt _alive_ as they slipped and slid against my skin, as they held my head and came in me. When they were done, they dressed me in ratty old clothes and slapped chains on me, making me walk, hobbled, down the long corridors. When they presented me to the Emperor, he took one look and backhanded me, declaring me a finished piece of art." 

Ice sluiced through Rimmer's veins as that _something_ that had been niggling at him hit him full force and his lewd thoughts drained away in a heartbeat. Lister was describing _his own capture_ and his willing participation in it. Humiliated, angry tears spilled down Rimmer's face as he berated himself for succumbing to it _again_. He _knew_ Lister was a liar; he _knew_ he was an expert manipulator, yet he'd allowed the smegging asshole to enthrall him _again_. There wasn't a trace of remorse or shame in Lister's tone—just pride. Pride at having fulfilled the Emperor's desires. Pride at a job well done, no matter that the job had been to torture and humiliate another human being. 

He shifted away in revulsion as Lister leaned toward him, disgusted at surrendering to his base emotions. "Get away from me, you piece of _smeg_ ," he spat. 

Lister's smile was carved out of ice. "He told me about you while you were paralyzed from the implant. How easy it was to capture the righteous, smug idiot with delusions of heroism. You really believe that smeg, don't you? That there's right and wrong; good and evil, and that _you_ have the right to judge others. Well, let me tell you what _he_ thought about your hero complex." Lister's cold, mocking tone raised gooseflesh on a quick shiver and the feeling of dread returned. "He said it would be easy to get you to sympathize with me, or even trust me as you were such a gullible fool. I succeeded beyond his wildest hopes—you still wanted to fuck me even after he fucked your mouth."

Rimmer surged upward, grabbing at Lister's shirt with his good hand. " _You sick fuck!_ " he cried, enraged beyond hysteria as he shoved Lister away from him. "Get the smeg away from me! You deserve each other. Two perverted, twisted deviants—I should have let you _die_!" He could barely breathe through the pain in his chest and the crushing knowledge that he'd brought everything down on himself. If he hadn't answered that distress call. If he'd grabbed McGruder and ran. If he'd gone through with that first punch directed at the Emperor, he might have escaped, but he'd been haunted by thoughts of Lister. He had paid for his lapse tenfold and it just kept getting worse. 

Lister's parting statement was delivered in a flat monotone. "I thought you should know more about the monster that you saved, not just the monster that you killed."

" _GET AWAY FROM ME!_ " Rimmer screamed, nearly falling out of the bed as he reached for something to throw at Lister's retreating back. Full of rage, full of self-hatred, Rimmer stumbled his way to the showers and turned on the hot water tap. He leaned his head against the outside of the stall, unable to hold back the tears of humiliation. He'd been warped; turned into someone he didn't recognize by Lister and his other self. Someone he detested. 

Still breathing heavily, he pulled the tunic over his head and shoved down his underwear and pajama bottoms. With a heavy heart and a mournful cry, he pried the wig from his head and flung it away, never wanting to see it again. 

He stepped into the stall and hissed as the too-warm water hit his feet. Thoughts of _filthy_ and _unclean_ swirled faster than the water circling the drain. Mind blank and hand shaking, he turned the dial slowly, grunting as the water turned to shards of hot glass piercing his skin. He turned his back to the water, groaning as the heat sank beneath his skin, erasing the Emperor's touches from his hips and arse. When it was too hot to stand, when his skin tingled and then went numb, he turned around.

He howled as the steaming water stabbed at his groin, gripping the bar on the side of the stall as his legs buckled. The heat of Lister's mouth, the rough hands fondling him and making him _like_ what they did to him, melted from his skin and slid down the drain. 

There was a sickening note to his laughter as he watched his skin redden, imagining it sloughing off in layers. He took a shaky step forward, moving further under the spray. Grunting as the heat moved up his chest to his throat, he tilted his head back and let the water fill his mouth. He held onto the rail to hold himself upright as he gagged on the water, washing the taint of the Emperor from his tongue. He spat out the foul, bitter water; what he hadn't been allowed to do when the Emperor was finished raping his mouth. Fresh, hot tears mingled with the water running down his face as he slowly sank to the floor.

Rimmer didn't notice the water ceasing to pound onto his shoulders or the concerned, angry voice berating him for his stupidity. He let himself be guided back to the main Medibay, numbed beyond thought. 

He felt the cooling balm being rubbed onto his overheated skin, the glide of too-light fingers nothing like the doctor's touch. As the touches moved down his body, he started to tremble, adrenaline draining from him along with the heat. His teeth started to chatter and he wrapped his arms around himself, obeying the guiding hands once again as they directed him to lie down on his bed. Blankets were piled over him as he lay naked and vulnerable, shivering. 

"I just wanted you to leave," said a voice that sounded like Lister, only it was remorseful and guilt-laden. Lister wasn't either of those things. "I'd hurt you so much already that I thought one last push would get you to hate me. I _deserve_ your hatred, not your sympathy or whatever it is that keeps driving you to help me. I thought if you hated me, you'd want to leave as soon as possible. I didn't expect you to…" 

"I hate what you did to me," Rimmer seethed, anger rousing him from the nothingness he'd slid into. "I hate that you enjoyed it. I hate that you made a mockery out of my compassion. _I_ _hate_ _you_ , Dave Lister, and as soon as the doctor declares me fit to fly, I'm leaving this putrid, vile dimension behind." 

Through their ragged breathing, he heard the faint, "Good," and the quiet padding of feet retreating. 

In the stillness, Rimmer heard uneven breathing coming from the other side of the curtain and somehow knew that Lister was trying to hide his crying. _Let him cry for once_ , he thought as he grew drowsy from the stifling warmth that surrounded him. He was lulled to sleep by the muffled sounds of Lister's sobbing. 

=-=-=-=

He saw little of Lister after that night. Whether it was by design or sheer luck, the psychologist kept Lister for hours at a time, leaving Rimmer in quiet solitude. Doctor Hernandez had said nothing about his changed appearance, but Karyn had made a show of putting the wig in the drawer at Rimmer's bedside, on top of his recovered silver flight suit. He'd ignored the entire ensemble. He had no desire to put the wig back on; no desire to return to his pitiful attempt to be Ace Rimmer. 

That decision left him with another, more important decision: if he wasn't traveling as Ace, where would he go? He couldn't go back to _Red Dwarf_. He didn't think Lister would mock him for returning, but the resentment at having failed as Ace would gnaw at him until it consumed him. He couldn't risk going back to any of Ace's previous dimensions, for fear of running into vengeful fathers or usurped despots. Rimmer had a dimension jump drive at his command and an entire multiverse of dimensions waiting for him. So why was he still hiding in the Medibay? 

His ribs had healed enough that he could sit in the cockpit and ride out a dimension jump. The cast had come off the day before, though his dexterity could use some improvement. The nerve damage from the spinal implant had all but vanished, with only the occasional muscle cramp left to remind him. Physically, he was well on the mend. 

His fingers strayed to the paused screen on the portable learning console that Karyn had provided for him. Reading about the history of _Red Dwarf_ in this dimension had been like watching one of Lister's horror movies: you knew you shouldn't look in the basement, but you just had to know what was there.

Reading about how his perfectly normal mining ship was a traveling brothel with a crew who chose sex as their career path had been discerning. Moreso when he saw Lister, McGruder and his own name on the ship's crew roster. It had answered so many of his unasked questions about his first impressions of the Emperor, but didn't put his mind at ease. 

Embarrassment had heated his skin until he thought he'd burst into flame, but he got through the history of the Red Light Fleet, the unfamiliar sexual terminology, and half the catalog of instructional and safety videos. He stole away to the showers every chance he got, awkwardly jerking himself off with his left hand to relieve his overstimulated body. It still felt wrong to _want_ to physically hurt someone, but he could no longer deny that it didn't appeal to him in some small way. 

Quite by accident, Rimmer learned his voice command had given him access to files he probably shouldn't see. Reading that Lister wasn't even 13 years old when he signed on gave him déjà vu. It wasn't a detail he would likely ever forget: his Lister had lost his virginity at the age of 12 on a public golf course. It seemed they shared a love of sex in whatever form they could get. 

But Rimmer and his doppelganger couldn't be further apart in personality or history. His double joined at age 15 and earned a Bachelor's in Art— _with Honors, no less_ , despite being highly proficient in history. Had known history so well that he'd been chosen to tutor a struggling, young student: Lister. 

It would have read like a cheesy romance novel, if Rimmer knew of such things. The young, naïve student falls in love with his older, more experienced tutor, the tutor realizes he loves his student, they get married and live happily ever after. 

_Married_. That was where the screen was paused, at the vid of Lister and his double's bonding ceremony. His fingertip traced along the other Rimmer's joyful face and wondered if he had ever been that happy. A fleeting ache caused him to release a shuddering breath. It was only the whisper of her voice, but it was enough: the silk of her fiery red hair sliding through his fingers; the lingering spice of her skin; everything he tried to forget about her cascaded through him in an instant. 

"Play," he ordered roughly, trying not to let jealousy consume him as he watched another version of himself pick up his newly bonded and spin him around, peals of laughter and applause accompanying their antics. 

Though he had never seen it reflected back at himself in the mirror, Rimmer knew it was love that sparkled in those green eyes. That same love was reflected in Lister's twinkling gaze; in the delicate way Lister wiped a bit of icing off of his other self 's bottom lip. 

Rimmer's hand fell away from the console as the familiar jumble of emotions roiled through him. For weeks he'd done nothing but read and think. He now knew that he'd never hated Lister. It was the feeling of helplessness that he'd been subjected to, the emotional torture and mind-numbing pain that he'd hated, but not the man. 

What he felt for Lister defied all his attempts to categorize it. He simply let the conflicting emotions war with each other until one seemed victorious, then the process would start all over again and another emotion won. The current winner was sympathy: Lister wasn't completely innocent, but he wasn't a full accomplice, either. He had been a different sort of victim, literally one of his own making. 

Rimmer's research had uncovered that Lister had developed the hard light bee and activated his doppelganger's hologram. He came across the alternate Rimmer's medical file and how Lister had created the personality disk. Though he didn't fully understand how his own light bee worked, he knew enough that the program Lister created would have degraded over time, leading to corrupt files and eventual total failure. Lister hadn't known about the dangers of creating a personality disk from an injured person. With the severity of his doppelganger's head injuries, it was a wonder they were able to get enough viable personality and memory, and a miracle that it had taken at all. In some sick, twisted way, perhaps Rimmer had done a kindness by killing the Emperor. Of course, it would have been a far kinder fate to never have resurrected Arnold in the first place. 

The still-playing monitor brought him out of his morbid thoughts: "I will love you until the stars burn out of the sky." 

Hearing his own voice say such mushy claptrap disgusted him, but looking at the monitor, Rimmer could see that his other self meant it. And if Lister's reaction was anything to go by, he felt the same way about the doppelganger. 

"Off," Rimmer choked out, then pushed the console away. He hadn't understood when Karyn and Doctor Hernandez had spoken about Arnold with such reverence, but the evidence of a caring, loving man was there, nearly fifteen years' worth. And Lister had loved him unconditionally. 

He heard footsteps approaching and recognized Lister's odd shuffle-tread, as if even lifting his feet required too much effort. A sense of unease crept up Rimmer's spine as the footsteps turned left and grew muffled. He knew where Lister had gone; it was where he stayed most days and every night. Swinging his legs off the bed, Rimmer made his way over to the doorway off the main room. 

He couldn't make out Lister's features, half-hidden in the shadows of the alcove. He stayed back, as he always did, and Lister ignored him, as he always did. 

Lister sat with his temple resting on the medical stasis pod while the back of his hand rubbed lightly along the surface. "She's still pushing me to think of you as two separate people, but I can't. She doesn't understand. If I do that, then…" Lister breathed deeply, as if he was bracing himself, "Then he was never you, and what I allowed him to do was…" The faint light from the stasis pod reflected the silvery tears sliding down Lister's cheeks. "Horrific. And I deserve every smegging punishment he gave me, plus a thousand more." 

Rimmer's heart ached as Lister turned to lay both hands on the pod, resting his forehead against the glass window. "If he wasn't you, then I broke my vows. I gave everything— _everything_ —to him that was yours. And I let him twist it into…"

"It was him," Rimmer heard himself answering, driven by Lister's anguish to break the illusion of privacy. 

It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. "You can't know that," Lister pled in a desperate whisper, not moving from his half-sprawl over the pod. 

Rimmer swallowed thickly and stated something he hadn't admitted to anyone since he became Ace. " _I'm_ a hologram, so believe me when I tell you that you can't create a hologram without the personality and memory of a living person. The process won't complete without them." The shame of being a deadie fell away as he defended his own humanity. "There was enough of Arnold Rimmer to create his hologram, therefore it _was_ Arnold Rimmer. One man, one hologram." 

Tension slowly faded from the alcove, along with the undercurrent of fear. "Thank you," Lister rasped, and the raw emotion in those two words caused Rimmer to shift uncomfortably.

He was still at the doorway when Lister pushed himself off of the pod with a sensuous roll of his shoulders. Having watched hours of recorded footage of the man, Rimmer knew that sensuality was second nature to Lister, but that didn't stop his body from taking notice. He dug his fingernails into his palms to calm his interest in Lister's movements, but then Lister stood and looked directly at him for the first time in nearly two months, derailing his improper thoughts. 

He looked worse than the first time Rimmer had seen him. Shadows deepened the hollows beneath his eyes and at his cheeks, but it was his eyes that unnerved him. No warmth; no life; just sorrow and regret. 

"There aren't—" Lister began, his voice catching in his throat. He coughed and started again. "There's no way to apologize for what I've done. My selfishness is inexcusable, no matter that I had reasons for my actions. I put this entire ship in jeopardy, its crew in peril and caused at least five people emotional and physical damage." Lister's gaze dropped to the floor and his hands twisted together in front of him. "I'm not asking for forgiveness because I know what I did was unforgivable." 

Anger, disbelief and pity were Rimmer's immediate reactions to Lister's words, but after all he'd learned and experienced, pity won out. He hoped his voice didn't sound accusing as he asked, "Then what are you asking for?"

Lister kept his head tilted down, avoiding looking at him as his hands continued to twist in agitation. "Understanding, I suppose. When Arnold was…" his voice faltered and lost its strength. He continued in a much quieter tone, "After the attack, everyone showered me with pity like he'd already died. But I knew he could be saved. I searched for weeks, looking for a surgical procedure to help him. Remembering the hard light bee was purely an accident, but once I had that in my head, it consumed me. I couldn't lose him. I'd loved him from the first time I saw him and every day after that for fifteen years. I didn't know how to function without him." 

A gut-wrenching, heartbreaking smile ghosted across Lister's lips and Rimmer felt tears prick his eyes. Watching the happy past was one thing; seeing the toll that life's smeg had wrought on Lister brought their lives into stark focus, and Rimmer couldn't stay unaffected. 

"He warned me that we'd never be whole again if something happened to either of us." Tears lazily made their way down Lister's cheeks. "I never thought I'd have to learn that he was right. It's like a piece of me is missing and I'll never stop searching for it." Lister's entire demeanor changed, his expression and voice growing harder. "Bringing him back as a hologram was as necessary as breathing. Maria warned me, Karyn told me to let him go, even Evie was ready to let him die, but I couldn't. Don’t you see; _I couldn't_. He's as much a part of me as my arm. My heart. My soulmate. My bonded." 

Rimmer hadn't understood, not until that very moment, exactly how much one was to the other. "The bonding ceremony is more than a marriage, isn't it?" he asked, keeping his voice reverently low. 

Lister nodded, swiping a hand across his cheek. "Even though we'd already formed the bond, the ceremony strengthened our connection until we were joined, souls as well as bodies." Lister turned slightly to touch fingertips to the glass on the pod. "I can still feel him, like the tiniest spark in a vast darkness." His fingers slipped off the glass. "Karyn keeps telling me that it's my feelings being projected, that there isn't anything of him left." He scoffed. "What does she know about it? She's just an android counselor. Her feelings were programmed in by some computer techie. She doesn't feel like we do. She can't _love_." 

The fact that Lister had just told him the curvaceous, buxom psychologist was an android barely registered. Rimmer was more concerned with his doppelganger in the medical pod. "Are you saying you can sense him, even though he's in stasis?" In his dimension, the medical and regular stasis pods operated exactly the same, with the person literally frozen out of time. If the man in the stasis pod _was_ aware, then he'd been in excruciating pain for over three full years. 

Lister shook his head. "I registered low on the psy scale, though I've got enough empathic abilities to make me really good at sensing what my clients need. Maybe it is nothing more than my wishful thinking. It'd be horrible if Arnold could feel." He turned completely around, facing the pod, slowly resting his hands on it again. "He can't feel, right?" 

Rimmer saw the shaking of Lister's arms and his fingers twitched with the need to _do_ something, only he wasn't a qualified psychologist. Casting about for something to say, something to reassure Lister, he flashed back to his time before the accident, when he was still alive. "Stasis takes you completely out of time. I used to spend my off time in the stasis pod on my ship and I promise you, I never noticed a thing. I went in and after a nanosecond, the door was opening and I was back out again, even though an hour had passed." 

He watched Lister's shoulders slump as he hunched over the pod. Lister's voice was barely above a whisper as he declared, "He's dying." 

It wasn't the statement that startled him, but rather the resignation in Lister's tone. As if he'd known all along but hadn't been able to face the reality until that very moment. Maybe Lister had to go through one hell before he could face this hell. 

Rimmer didn't need to review the medical files; he could never forget the list of extensive injuries his counterpart had received or the efforts to keep him alive. "Yes," he agreed softly. "It's only his broken body in that pod. What you loved about him, that spark as you called it, was released long ago." 

When Lister didn't react or say anything, Rimmer grew nervous. Hesitantly, he walked up behind Lister and glanced down into the pod. It took everything in him not to make a sound as he stared down at his own broken body. Blood still shone wetly over most of the clothes and body. The entire left side of the head and face was covered in gauze that was seeping red. The left arm was encased in a rough splint, yet bone fragments stuck out of the skin at odd angles. The legs were in just as bad a shape, the left one clearly crushed by something heavy. How Lister had held on to hope for so long was a testament to his devotion, but Rimmer was a pragmatist. This Arnold Rimmer had died during the attack on _Red Dwarf_ some three-odd years ago. 

Of their own volition, Rimmer's hands came to lightly rest on Lister's shoulders, holding him steady as Lister reached out a shaky hand to the stasis controls. "What are you doing?" he asked, unable to stop a tremor of fear at the memory of trying to stop Lister from releasing the airlock. 

Lister straightened in his arms, head back and chin out. "Something I haven't been able to do before now. Something that needed to be done a long time ago." His voice was stronger, no longer inflected with grief. 

Rimmer kept a light hold on him as Lister pressed the disengage button, shutting off the stasis field. The vitals came online immediately and the weak, thready thrum of a heartbeat dominated the silence. With a slow, blown-out breath, Lister's finger hovered over the release button before pressing it. The top of the pod opened against the wall and Rimmer barely had time to hold his breath before the stench of blood hit his nostrils, still as fresh as the day his doppelganger had gone into stasis. 

Lister's hand cupped his Rimmer's unbandaged cheek, unconcerned about the blood sluggishly trickling down his Rimmer's neck. "You are the other half of my soul, Arnold Judas Rimmer. In all of creation, no one has loved someone as much as I love you. I will always love you, even after the stars burn out of the sky. But it's time to let you go."

Rimmer vision was blurred with tears, so he couldn't see the vitals monitor. He blinked until it was in focus, then located the brain activity level line. It was steadily dropping, down to 22% already. He squeezed Lister's shoulders gently, letting him know that he wasn't alone and as a warning that he had little time left. 

"I'll be all right now. You always told me I was tougher than I looked. While you've been asleep, I learned that for myelf," Lister choked out, his thumb smoothing over the blood-slick cheek. "I'll live for both of us and when I see you again, I will show you how much you've been missed." 

Rimmer shifted his gaze to the monitor: ten percent. When he looked again, it was to see Lister bent down, pressing a kiss to the blood-moist lips. 

The monitor began a high-pitched, solid whine, and Rimmer knew that he was the only living Arnold Rimmer left in that dimension. 

Lister turned in his arms and pushed his face against his chest, arms wrapping around his waist with surprising strength. Instinctually, Rimmer enfolded Lister in his arms as he rested his cheek against Lister's head, offering support and comfort to the grieving man. "I'm sorry," he murmured against the crinkly hair, not sure if he was apologizing for Lister's latest loss or for his actions that had led to the death of the Emperor. Maybe both. Maybe it didn't matter. He held Lister tighter as he felt wetness seep through his shirt. 

Rimmer didn't notice when the high-pitched whine stopped, only that the silence was broken by Lister's hitched breathing. He looked up and spied Doctor Hernandez in the doorway, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She mouthed _gracias, mi ángel_ to him and then left them alone, Rimmer returning his cheek to Lister's head. 

It was only a few moments more before Lister disengaged his arms from around his waist and took a step back. Rimmer was surprised to see his lips curved upward. It was watery and weak, but it was most definitely a smile. 

Lister must have seen something in his expression as the smile firmed and widened. "I can still feel it. That spark. He's always been there, even when I didn't notice. He's still with me." Rimmer grew wary as Lister's smile froze and started to fade away. "Why are you still here?" was asked in an unsure, hesitant voice. 

It was a question Rimmer had asked himself dozens of times as he whiled away the days in Medibay and he'd yet to come up with a suitable answer. Studying Lister's bloodshot eyes in his too-thin, tear-streaked face, the missing piece fell into place with the tinkling drop of a pin, but with the enormity of a volcanic explosion on Io. 

The words formed and promptly lumped in Rimmer's throat, refusing to be spoken aloud. He licked his suddenly dry lips and stated, "I can't go back where I came from and I don't want to continue on as I was." The half-truth pounded in his skull as the real reason demanded to be heard. Rimmer viscously fought it back, promising himself that Lister would never, ever know. His voice was a quiet murmur as he admitted, "I'm as lost as you are." 

Lister met his gaze squarely, the look of uncertainty replaced by determination. "It looks like we both have to find out who we are all over again." 

Rimmer drew in a quick breath as Lister squeezed his arm, but Lister was already out the doorway before his traitorous mouth circumvented his mind. On a ragged whisper, he voiced the real reason he hadn't left: "For you. I'm still here for you." He closed his eyes and bowed his head, feeling like the worse sort of smegging scum. 

He'd just held a grieving man, offering him comfort after Lister had turned off the life support of his one true love, yet his mind could only focus on the remembered warmth of the body against his. 

He released a shuddering sigh and blinked his eyes open, focusing on the stasis pod. "It was the same for you, wasn't it?" he commiserated with his dead double. "I bet you tried to ignore him, too, but he wore you down with those damn eyes and that ingrained sensuality. He's addictive, like that first rush of adrenaline after you've taken learning drugs. All he has to do is look at you and you're lost." 

In the quiet, Rimmer became aware of the absolute stillness around him. The stasis pod was still open; he really ought to close it. He approached cautiously, as if he expected his doppelganger to wake up and pulverize him for his thoughts. He pressed the button, sending the lid back down over the other Rimmer. 

"That's not the reason you fell in love with him," he stated once the lid was resealed. "He's got a backbone of steel, though he doesn't seem to know it. He's survived your death twice over and now he'll survive it a third time, because he's strong. He survived having his humanity and identity nearly crushed beyond recognition. He survived loving you even when that love turned against him. He's unbreakable." 

He meant every word; Lister had proven to him to be the bravest man he'd ever known. Ace Rimmer's heroics paled to nothing next to the strong will of a man who survived what Lister had. That sort of bravery came from somewhere indefinable within; a courage born of strength and love. Rimmer envied it, yet was equally afraid of it. Lister's courage had shown him just how cowardly his unremarkable actions as Ace had been and he was ashamed of his bumbling attempts to be something he wasn't.

He stared down at the remains of the man who had held Lister's heart for three years beyond his life. He touched fingertips to the pod. "I wish I was more like him." He let his hand drop to his side. "Rest in peace, Arnold Rimmer. You deserve it." 

=-=-=-= 

When he walked out of the alcove back into the Medibay, Karyn was standing by his bed. 

"How are you feeling?" she asked. 

"Shouldn't you be asking Lister that?" he snapped, feeling out of sorts after his encounter. "He's the one who just lost the love of his life _again_." He strode over to the chair and pulled the console closer, giving clear indications that he wanted to be left alone.

"Lister has been in my care for seven weeks," she stated, her voice calm and even. It's coolness reminded Rimmer that she wasn't human. "I believe him to be of sound mind and capable of making good choices. You, however, have refused to speak to me about your experiences." 

"With good reason," he muttered under his breath as he typed on the keyboard harder than necessary. Louder, he said, "Look, I appreciate what you want to do, but I'm about to leave this dimension. What I feel or what I experienced won't matter in a few days." 

An enigmatic smile curved her lips. "I suspect that you will never be able to forget your experiences in this dimension, Ace Rimmer. Not all of them were bad, after all." 

He barked out a laugh, holding his side as he stared at her in disbelief. "This dimension has brought me nothing but pain and misery. I'll be happy to leave and never look back." 

"Do you recall that I was cataloging the events of the past two years from the crew?" Her non sequitur had him raising his eyebrows in curiosity. She continued, "That includes your participation in those events." 

He flushed with embarrassment and ducked his head, every smegging thing that had happened to him flashing through his mind in a heartbeat. 

Her hands pushed his aside on the keyboard and typed quickly, bringing up a timeline and a report with 'Ace Rimmer' highlighted. "If you would like to know how the crew recorded your actions," was all she said before she left him to his thoughts. 

His fingers rested on the keys as he stared at the slowly blinking underline on his name. It would undoubtedly be embarrassing and cruel. It would be tales of his lame attempts at rescue and his cowardice in the face of torture. It would be how he failed over and over again, and had only gotten himself hurt in the process. 

Without consciously realizing he'd pressed any keys, the report opened and his eyes scanned the screen. 

Not once did he see the phrase 'smegging idiot' or 'lame.' An embarrassment of a different sort colored his cheeks as he saw himself through the eyes of everyone else. 

"…he kept talking back, like he didn't know his life was forfeit for disobeying…" 

"…he stood up for Dave without regard for his own life…" 

"…he dared to talk back to the Emperor, something that any of the rest of us would have been whipped for, but he didn't seem to care…"

"…he did what none of us were brave enough to do…"

"What he did to protect Dave was what most of us would have done, if we hadn't been afraid for our own lives."

"He showed me what it truly meant to be courageous in the face of tyranny. I'm ashamed of my previous actions." 

"He may have shared the same face as our tormentor, but he proved to be more like the old Arnold." 

"He had no fear, no thought for his own safety." 

"I don't know if 'hero' is the right word, given the circumstances of what we were all facing, but his actions were heroic. He didn't care what happened to him; only what was happening to Dave."

"I can only surmise that Ace must have heard Dave leaving and followed him, then tried to stop him from opening the airlock, thinking Dave was trying to kill himself. I don't know if I've ever witnessed such a foolhardy, selfless action, but I'm thankful that Ace was there. I truly believe that he was sent by some higher power to correct the imbalance of bringing Arnold back from the dead. He has been Dave's saviour, in many ways." 

Rimmer had to stop reading and wipe his eyes. His hand was shaking as he balled it into a fist and rested it next to the keyboard. Names he recognized and names he didn't know all said the same thing: they thought he was a hero. It would have been laughable if he wasn't reading it with his own eyes. He didn't understand it. His only thought had been to save Lister. He'd succeeded. Did that make him a hero? He didn't feel heroic. For three years, he'd imitated Ace as best he could and he'd failed miserably. What was he missing? What did they see that he didn't?

"Karyn told me I could find you here." 

At Lister's statement he closed his eyes, not in any condition to talk to him right now. "Go away, Lister," he said, hoping to sound authoritative and angry, but instead he heard the plea in his tone. He needed time to think about what he'd just read to try to understand it and having Lister's presence hovering over his shoulder wasn't going to help.

He heard the rustle of Lister sitting on his bed and could picture him clearly, fingers loosely locked together and resting on his thigh. "She said you might be reviewing the crew's reports about you." 

He gave a sharp nod, not trusting his voice. His freshly healed bones ached as his fist tightened, but the pain allowed him to focus, giving him some stability in a situation that was getting more unstable the longer he stayed on board. 

Lister's voice was calm and resonated with some emotion he couldn't place. "If you're looking for mine, it isn't in there. It's privacy locked so no one can read it without my permission. Would you like to read it?" It was asked as casually as if Lister was inquiring if he wanted port or coffee after dinner, but it shook Rimmer to his core. 

A part of him yearned to know, but the larger part dreaded to learn the truth of what Lister thought of him. As much as the words he'd just read had affected him, those people weren't _there_. They hadn't experienced what he, Lister and the Emperor had. They hadn't seen his shameless degradation as the Emperor toyed with his body. They hadn't watched him succumbing to his body's weaknesses. Rimmer concentrated on the sound of their breathing, not daring to answer.

When the silence dragged on, Lister's soft voice interrupted it. "I didn't know what to think of this stranger wearing Arnold's face. He'd warned me that the stranger was a duplicate of himself, but it wasn't until I saw him that I realized how much Arnold had been changed." 

Rimmer stiffened, then his head bowed as he realized Lister was reciting his report, clearly unwilling to wait for his answer. He silently willed him to stop, but the low voice continued on. "It was something I never acknowledged for fear of the bubble bursting. I had Arnold back, it was my one and only concern. Everything else could go to hell. And it had. Then this guy is there and it's _Arnold_. Not just the attitude, but the emotions in his eyes. He hated seeing me cowed. He degraded himself for me. He tried to protect me, even when I didn't deserve it. Even when he didn't know it was part of the elaborate game being played."

A shudder ran through him as memories replayed of Lister taunting his 'delusions of heroism', even knowing it had been a ploy by Lister to get him to leave. 

His breathing grew labored as Lister's even tone started to waver with emotion. "I began to feel again. I'd forgotten what it felt like to have my own feelings and not what I thought I should feel or what I was told to feel. It started when the implant was activated and I watched the stranger being tortured like I had been tortured. He had to be in pain, his muscles screaming and his head aching, yet still the stranger kept trying to help me." 

Harsh breathing filled the pause in Lister's words, but still Rimmer couldn’t make himself speak. He was back in that room feeling his blood boil and his limbs thrash, yet distantly, as if it was happening to someone else. His focus was on Lister, just as it had been then. 

Lister's voice dropped to a ragged whisper, shame coloring his next words. "It had been so long since I exerted any sense of self that I was afraid I'd forgotten how to think for myself. But it finally happened and I repaid the stranger's kindness the only way I could at the time. I let him know he wasn't alone. It wasn't nearly enough, but it was all I was capable of at the time." 

Lister's words were getting harder to understand as emotion thickened his accent and weakened his voice, but Rimmer didn't dare break the spell. Not now. They were breathing in tandem again, faster than normal but a little deeper.

"I can't say he killed Arnold, because Arnold was in stasis. He killed the corruption I had made of Arnold with my selfishness. He put himself in harm's way without a thought to his own safety, not even after he was raped, tortured and betrayed. I continually tried to force him away, but he was relentless in trying to save me. Not just from Arnold, but from myself. I don't know how my life would have turned out without his interference. I resented him for it at first, because I thought he took Arnold away from me again. What he did was restore Arnold in my mind and in my heart." 

Tears burned beneath Rimmer's tightly closed eyes, absolutely destroyed by Lister's words. The remnants of who he'd always thought he was started to slough off and he was terrified of the bright, new form that was emerging. 

He heard the creak of Lister getting up from the bed and felt his presence kneeling at his side. The soft cadence and the emotion behind his words were hypnotizing. "I can never repay what he's done. I can never apologize for what I put him through. I can tell him that I will always be grateful to him for giving me my Arnold back, and that I love him for it." 

A palm on his cheek gently turned his head and his eyes fluttered open, seeing the watery, out-of-focus face of an equally teary-eyed Lister. His eyes closed as Lister brought their mouths together, the sense of gratitude filling him with light. Even though it was a chaste kiss, he was still trembling when Lister pulled back. 

"I offer myself to you for whatever punishment you deem necessary." 

The intimacy of Lister's previous words shattered and Rimmer's eyes flew open in shock. "What?" he squeaked. 

Lister was unbelievably calm, his entire countenance of acceptance at odds with his words. "When I was with him, I lost the ability to think and act for myself. But not being in control doesn't negate my responsibility for the suffering I caused. Before you leave, I ask that I be given the chance to make amends." 

His senses reeled; his emotions in a flurry of confusion. They'd been on the same level again, intimately connected, and again, the illusion had been broken. "You want me to—" he began, having trouble wrapping his thoughts around what Lister was asking. "I won't do what he did to you. I can't and I _won't_."

Lister's calm façade slipped into a frown. "Karyn warned me you wouldn't understand." 

"You're damn right I don't understand," Rimmer bellowed as he slammed his fist onto the table, unable to stop the flood of emotions overwhelming him. "All I've seen of this dimension is pain and suffering and I'm sick of it. I will not hurt you. Do you understand? I can't hurt someone I lo—" 

"Don't," Lister barked quickly, his eyes flashing dangerously. 

Rimmer was breathing hard, emotions still running high and it took precious seconds for his brain to comprehend what he'd almost admitted. He searched Lister's face, finding fear in his eyes, as stark and real as the terror that was seizing his heart.

Lister's voice softened as he repeated, "Don't. You're not him and you can't _be_ him, no matter how much I might…" 

As Lister couldn't let him finish his thought, Rimmer couldn't let Lister finish his. "I can't be him," he interrupted Lister quietly. As much as Rimmer had fantasized about Lister's skin and his moans, he could never picture himself doing what the Emperor had done. He only had the vaguest of understandings of the intricacies of their relationship; he had no hope of coming within ten light years of being what Lister needed. 

Resignation passed like a cloud over Lister's expression, but it held a faint undercurrent of disappointment. "No, I don't think you could," Lister finally admitted, though it sounded as though it was dragged up from the depths of hell. 

Without realizing it, Rimmer's hand had cupped Lister's cheek, his thumb rubbing over the faint stubble. 

Lister's hand settled over his as he leaned into the touch, sending Rimmer's nerves skittering. "Punishment is about the act of contrition, not the application of pain. There are dozens of forms of punishment that have nothing to do with the infliction of pain. Humiliation, orgasm denial, scolding, writing an essay, even something as mundane as doing chores. It's up to you what form it takes." He started to tremble as Lister placed a kiss to his palm. "This is something I need. You don't understand that, I know, but it's the truth." Lister looked up at him then, his eyes shining and full. "For me to be whole again, I have to face my demons. Yours is the freshest; the one that haunts me the most." 

He couldn’t be expected to form a coherent thought when Lister was holding his hands, thumbs rubbing over the backs. Rimmer couldn’t focus on anything other than the racing of his heart and the knowledge that he only had a few more days in this dimension and then he would be gone forever. That settled something inside of him and he blew out a soft breath. "Can I have a day to think it over?" 

A genuine, if very faint, smile tilted the corner of Lister's mouth. "If you have it in you to forgive me, I would give you a lifetime." The trace of a smile vanished. "I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but if you decide you can't do it, could you let Karyn or Maria know before you leave? I'll understand if you can't. This isn't your world, after all." 

_It's more mine than you think_. "I'll let you know one way or the other by tomorrow," Rimmer promised. "I won't leave for another few days." 

Fear coiled around his spine as Lister leaned forward, but instead of the expected kiss to his mouth, lips pressed to his forehead as fingers threaded through his curls. "It's more than I deserve." 

He stared at nothing as he listened to Lister walk out of the Medibay, his thoughts a chaotic shamble. 

=-=-=-=-=

Rimmer spent the next 24 hours contemplating the changes he sensed in himself. Learning he was thought of as a hero didn't automatically make him one, but once the reasons given sank below his cowardice and self-doubt, he began to wonder. He reevaluated his actions in this dimension, from the first sight of _Red Dwarf_ to his conversation with Lister the night before. As if he was watching a stranger, he saw himself placing himself in danger, threatening the Emperor, refusing to back down. 

He remembered the rush of confidence, all too rare in his life, that allowed him to do extraordinary things. He'd sensed no rush when he went after Lister's supposed kidnappers; perhaps that was the beginning of his change. He'd moved without over-thinking the problem, letting his instincts guide him. Maybe his Lister had been right all along; maybe Rimmer was his own worst enemy. It wasn't until he was stripped of everything that he became his true self. 

Standing outside Lister's quarters, Rimmer tugged on the sleeve of his shirt, though it wasn't really a shirt. He'd practiced creating clothing with the remote for his light bee, refusing to wear anything that either of this dimension's Rimmers had worn. 

Comfortable inside his own skin for the first time in his life or death, Rimmer pressed the chime announcing his arrival. What he hadn't been able to figure out on his own about Lister's request for punishment, he'd enlisted Karyn for advice. He didn't hear a command from inside, but the doors slid open to reveal Lister sat at the table, hands folded neatly in front of him. 

Even though it had been at Rimmer's request, it was still so incongruous to everything he'd ever known about his Lister that it threw him for a moment. From the slobbiest of clothes to leather and silk, he'd never seen Lister in a proper suit and tie and the effect was breathtaking. 

He gave himself a little shake. He wasn't there to admire the cut of the charcoal grey suit against the deceptively fit shoulders. He was there to administer Lister's punishment. He kept his tone even yet firm; he'd practiced this, too. "Stand and face me. Keep your hands at your sides." 

Lister stood with his effortless grace and turned to him, relief clear in his features. 

Rimmer ignored him as walked around the room, letting his gaze flick over the few items that had apparently survived the attack that had killed Arnold. They were tarnished, blackened in spots or missing pieces altogether, but they spoke of a life shared. The chess board was missing seven pieces, but he placed it on the table and sat in the vacated chair still warm from Lister's body heat. 

"When I came to this dimension, I didn't know who I was," he stated as he placed the pieces on their correct squares on the board. He could feel Lister's eyes on him as he made his opening gambit, on the board and in Lister's punishment. "I'd spent the previous three years trying to be like the legendary Ace Rimmer, only I didn't know I was going about it all wrong." 

He studied the board, trying to figure out a strategy with his queen and one knight missing. "I was trying to imitate what I thought a hero should be without understanding what it meant to be a hero. A hero doesn't think of himself as one; he just _acts_. Not everything comes out all right in the end, but it's his actions that make the difference. A coward stands by and lets others risk their lives for him. A hero risks his life for others without a thought or care of reward." 

He looked up at Lister then, his fingers tightening around the bishop clenched in his fist. "I'm no hero," he declared with a tremor to his voice. He let the bishop clatter to the board as he pushed away from the table. "I have wanted something since that first kiss. I craved it when I was chained to that wall." He met Lister's apprehensive gaze as he ghosted his hand over Lister's shoulder and chest, feeling the nervous energy through the suit. "You asked to be given a chance to make amends. For me to choose a punishment that I saw fit in order to grant you absolution." His hands settled on Lister's shoulders and their shuddered exhales overlapped. "Grant me absolution, Lister." 

As if in a daze, Lister began to recite, "Anything you desire…"

Rimmer gave him a quick, firm shake. "No. Don't use his words with me. I'm not him. I'm not Arnold, either. I'm Rimmer." 

Lister gave a quick nod as the unfocused glaze left his eyes. "What is it you want, Rimmer?" 

He laughed darkly. The heaviness in his heart translated to a defeated tone as he proclaimed, "I want to stop wanting you. I dream of your skin reddened by my hand. I hear your moans in the stillness of the Medibay. I taste the salt of your tears and the bitterness of your regret with every bite of food. I feel your mouth around me when I..." He saw the light change in Lister's eyes and dropped his hands from Lister's shoulders, taking a few steps back. Rimmer was breathing heavily, unaware of how strongly he'd been affected by telling his dirty secret. A bulge ruined the line of Lister's trousers in conflict with the hurt and confusion in those dark eyes.

Rimmer forced himself to turn away and sit back down at the table. He picked up the bishop, toying with it as he said, "Your punishment is to stand there and watch me. I was forced to watch you with him, unable to relieve the unbearable pressure or cover my disgusted reaction. So you are to keep your eyes on me at all times for the next half hour. Keep any thoughts or feelings to yourself unless I give you permission to tell me. Do you understand?" 

He could see clearly that Lister didn't, but Karyn had assured him that Lister would do anything he asked. Her caution at how vulnerable Lister would be with him replayed in his mind, though he hadn't realized how it would feel to have someone's life in his hands. He could break Lister without a thought; with hardly any effort at all and the power that filled him scared the smeg out of him. Was that what the Emperor had felt? 

He forced those dangerous thoughts away and focused on the board, not really seeing it while he listened to Lister's uneven breathing. Karyn had warned him of this too, that Lister would be overwhelmed, but it was his duty to see the punishment through. A half hour; no more and no less. 

After a futile eight minutes attempting to win with an incomplete set, he put the chess pieces away. Not much else was on the shelves so he opened drawers randomly. There was a singed and ragged sketchbook in the bottom one. He sensed Lister's unease as he flipped it open, a flush creeping up his neck at the naked drawings of Lister within its pages. Some were smeared and the bottom half of the book was crumbled beyond hope, but Rimmer knew he was holding something precious in his hands. Arnold's sketchbook. His fingers traced his signature, looking so odd with the wrong letters behind it. 

He returned the book and closed the drawer, the tension in the room easing instantly. It ratcheted up again as he went to the next set of drawers. He saw nothing that would warrant the fear that was buffeting him until he spotted it. Two identical necklaces were inside the dirty, crumpled box, one still stained with Lister's blood. 

He circled the cold metal with a fingertip, wondering what had made Lister change his mind about keeping them. Lister had sawed the necklace off his own neck to flush it into space, starting another chain reaction of pain for Rimmer. Rimmer assumed they were symbols of oppression and control, but maybe Lister saw beneath that to some other, kinder emotion. 

He glanced to his watch; three minutes remained. He burned with the need to know _why_ , but he held his tongue, his silence just as much a punishment as it was for Lister. 

Out of things to look at or open, Rimmer prowled around Lister, faint amusement touching his lips as Lister turned to keep watching him. Lister's countenance was strained and his hands were clenched into fists, his eyes burning with thoughts awaiting his signal. 

With one minute left, Rimmer stopped moving and stared down into Lister's eyes. "The Lister I knew is a slob. He's a lazy bum who drinks too much and eats too much curry. His breath could strip the paint off this ship and his flatulence could evacuate it." He took a deep breath, noting absently that Lister matched it. "I was meant to keep him sane, but he ended up saving me from my pathetic existence. He pushed me to become Ace, so sure in my abilities despite my glaring weaknesses. He believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. I didn't know how much that support helped me until I came here." 

Lister's eyes were pleading, begging him to let him talk, but Rimmer wasn't quite done. His throat was tight and he desperately wanted a stiff drink, but he couldn't stop for fear of his courage deserting him. "I was so determined to help you because I wanted some way to repay him for his kindness. I was nothing but horrible to him, yet he always came back for me. He always saved me. I owed it—I _wanted_ —to save him." His fingers had the faintest trembling to them as he cupped Lister's cheek. "What I never realized that by saving him—saving you—I saved myself." 

He saw the tears shining in Lister's eyes before they closed, sending a few trickling down his cheeks. Rimmer steeled himself as he spoke the words Karyn insisted he needed to say: "Tell me why I needed to punish you." 

As Lister began to haltingly, chokingly list the lies and betrayal, Rimmer found he couldn’t stay detached as he'd been instructed. He put his arms around Lister to pull him close, staggering to hold them upright as Lister clung to him, his voice rising in pitch as the litany continued. 

As the words grew fainter between the hiccupped sniffling, Rimmer's fingers tangled in the long dreads as he stroked the back of Lister's head, making nonsensical hushing sounds. 

After a few more minutes, Lister disentangled himself but kept his head down and his gaze on the floor. 

"What is it?" Rimmer asked quietly. Lister's reaction wasn't like anything Karyn described might happen, so he was at a loss. 

"May I get cleaned up?" The formality of Lister's words clued Rimmer in to this still being part of Lister's ritualistic atonement. 

Lister looked miserable: puffy, red eyes and snot smeared across his cheek. "Of course," he answered quickly. When Lister didn't move, he added, "I'll be here when you come back." 

With a short nod, Lister retreated to the sink and Rimmer's shoulders sagged in relief. It felt like a thousand pounds had been lifted from his shoulders now that the punishment was done. He had more respect for Lister's Arnold if that was what he dealt with. It was emotionally draining yet equally as hard not to be emotional, when faced with…

"Lister?" he questioned, none of the smoother, confident tones in the squeak of his voice. 

After washing and drying his face, Lister had returned to stand in front of him. With a roll of his shoulders, Lister's jacket slid to puddle at his feet. The knot at Lister's neck was being worked free and then the tie joined the jacket on the floor. 

"You've given me what I asked for and more than you could ever possibly know," Lister began, his voice once more confident, if a bit subdued. "I can't let you spend the rest of your life wondering 'what if'." 

Understanding came swiftly and Rimmer took hold of Lister's hands to stop their movements. "No." 

Lister smiled faintly, determination flashing in his eyes. "You asked for absolution. To be free of wanting me." 

The need was back, as strong as ever with Lister looking at him like that. "Not like this. Not because you have to." He sounded as pathetic and whiny out loud as he did in his head and berated himself for letting his guard down. 

Lister's hands were somehow free and plucking at the buttons on Rimmer's own shirt. Lister's voice was strong and clear as he said, "I choose to." 

Rimmer's weak control snapped like the wing on a gnat. With a low growl, he dove for Lister's mouth, waiting lips parted in invitation. He groaned as the half-remembered taste exploded over his tongue, the spicy scent filling his lungs and the skin warm beneath his hand. He stroked down the bare back, not caring when Lister's shirt had joined the jacket on the floor. 

He relented when Lister made a frustrated sound and pushed at his chest. "What the hell is wrong with your buttons? I swear I have them undone but your shirt won't open." 

He dug in his trousers pocket for the remote and clicked the switch, sending his projection wavering as the clothes disappeared, leaving him in his real boxers. "I guess you didn't know you could program holographic clothes." He tossed the remote onto the table as Lister's gaze grew hungrier and he even licked his lips as if he couldn't wait to taste. 

Before Lister could pounce, Rimmer held him at arm's length. "One thing if we do this. You keep in mind who I am. I'm not your Arnold. I'll have the same courtesy, even though my Lister and I never…" 

"I know who you are," Lister assured him quietly, lacing their fingers together and guiding him to the bed. "I won't forget." He stood on tiptoe and gave Rimmer a slow, deep kiss. "How do you want me?" 

"Huh?" he asked stupidly, mind still reeling from the slide of Lister's tongue against his. 

Lister's eyes twinkled at him, amused. "You mentioned my skin reddened by your hand. Is that something you still want?" 

"Smeg yes," he answered without hesitation. His boxers were already strained at the front and they weren't even horizontal yet. To get to actually touch that skin, to feel it bounce beneath his hand at he hit it…

He inhaled sharply as Lister dropped his trousers, toed off his shoes and then bent over the bed, exposing his naked ass to the room and to Rimmer's gaze. Rimmer couldn’t help but notice the bed was the perfect height for Lister to bend over without straining anything, his feet flat on the floor. 

Lister's concerned voice interrupted his thoughts. "Do you know how to administer a spanking?" 

He hesitated before answering. "I watched the instructional vids and…others. I conferred with Karyn before coming here, but I wasn't planning on…" 

Lister rolled onto his side and Rimmer's eyes zeroed in on the half-hard cock pushing up toward Lister's stomach. "Hey. Hey," Lister's soft calls drew his attention away from the visual treat. "Start slow and gentle. We'll see how you like it and then we'll decide if you want to keep going. If you hear me say 'vindaloo', you need to stop immediately. Do you know about safe words?" 

Feeling like he was falling into the rabbit hole all over again, Rimmer nodded. "If you use that word, I have to stop and ask what's wrong." He blinked as if coming back to himself and smiled. "Your safe word is vindaloo?" 

An ironic smile curved Lister's mouth. "I guess we both have a taste for curry. What about yours? Do you have a safe word?"

He felt his ears get hot. "Never had a need," he muttered. He cast about for something that had meaning for him but would stand out and when it came to him, his ears got hotter. "Gazpacho." 

Lister didn't even blink. "Gazpacho," he repeated back. "Now come here." The outstretched hand beckoned and Rimmer stepped forward to take it, letting out a strangled noise as Lister placed his hand on that inviting arse. "Take your time. Don’t just go for a slap. Build up to it. Anticipation is the best…" Lister's head dropped back to the bed, groaning as Rimmer discovered the flesh beneath his hand. 

He spent a few minutes simply enjoying the feel of Lister's fleshy arse in his hands. He kneaded and cupped the curves, running his finger along the cleft from the top of Lister's tailbone to where the darkness shrouded his genitals. The beautiful moan, the one that haunted him, emanated from above him and he gripped the arse tight, leaving discolored indentations where his fingertips had dug in too hard. The moan increased in volume and he tested out a light swat to the right cheek. The stillness gave way to a broken plea for 'harder', but he took what Lister and Karyn had said to heart and barely tapped the left cheek. 

His face and neck were hot with embarrassment and _need_ as his confidence grew along with the strength of his swings. His hand began to tingle with the impact, mesmerized as the skin rebounded and bounced back for the next smack. Lister was vocally appreciative, moaning and begging for more and harder, arching up on his toes to raise his arse higher. Nothing like the man he'd seen remain silent through the Emperor's paddling, Rimmer could only guess that it was something between them; that his doppelganger had demanded silence. 

Silence was the last thing Rimmer wanted as his smacks coincided with Lister's grunts and groans. He paused to run his hands over the warm, reddened skin, unable to help himself as he bent down and kissed one cheek. He ran the flat of his tongue up the middle of the left cheek, then the right, the incoherent noise Lister made going straight to his aching erection. With a nip to the skin, Rimmer stood up and grasped both cheeks to give them a good, firm squeeze. Lister's response nearly had him coming: pushing up hard on his toes, fisting the sheets and crying. Begging to be hit harder. 

Rimmer stumbled backward as memories assaulted him: Lister at the airlock, not even knowing who he was, raging uncomprehendingly to beg for more. The word fell from his tongue as if he'd said it all his life, "Gazpacho," and he sank to the floor, covering his face with his hands. He'd nearly given in. He'd nearly done what he'd killed the Emperor for doing. Nausea threatened him but then an arm was around him and his head was angled down to rest on a shoulder. 

"It's okay. I'm not hurt," Lister assured him and the arms tightened around him. 

He felt numb. "I'm not like him," he whispered. "I won't be like him." 

"You're nothing like him," Lister responded and Rimmer felt a hand smooth down his hair. "You reached your limit and you stopped." 

He shook his head and gulped down a sob. "Not mine…you. I heard you at the airlock, demanding he beg you for more and harder and I did the same thing…" He was ensconced in warmth as Lister drew him closer, making breathing difficult. 

"Even though this is new to you, your instincts were for my safety. You knew what to do without having to be told. Learn to trust your instincts; they're good." His head was tilted up and he stared into eyes filled, unbelievingly, with trust. "I think we're both at our emotional limit for today." 

It was only then that Rimmer noticed the strained lines around Lister's eyes and mouth, so reminiscent of when he was flogged and nearly came. Rimmer couldn't see Lister's erection, but he could feel the hard length pressed against his thigh. He knew what it was like to get that hard and not be allowed to come. It had been one of the worst feelings he'd ever experienced. He reached between them, his fingers gliding over damp skin. "I could…"

Lister caught his hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. "Do nothing. This is for me to deal with, not you. I'm going to run a bath and then I'll call Maria to…"

At hearing the doctor's name, Rimmer gasped. "You said I didn't hurt you!" he accused as he tried to turn Lister in his arms to get a better look at his arse. 

"You didn't. I swear to you, you didn’t hurt me," Lister's voice cut through his panic and he focused once again on the face hovering so close to his own. "I'll be sore later if I don't apply the balm, but that's all. It takes the immediate sting away, leaving the deeper pain for me to savor." 

Mollified yet still disturbed that Lister _wanted_ to continue to feel it, Rimmer shook his head. "You make it sound like a six course meal." 

Lister smirked, eerily reminiscent of another Lister just out of the AR unit where he'd had sex for almost three days straight. "I enjoy it as much as a four course meal. For me, this is one of the best things in life. It's what made Arnold and me so good together. He enjoyed inflicting pain and I enjoyed taking it." 

Rimmer's head shook again. "I'll never understand it." 

"You don’t have to," was Lister's simple answer and Rimmer realized he was right. He didn't have to understand, because he'd proven to himself that he wasn't strong enough to hold that much power over another person. And that was fine by him. 

He accepted Lister's hand up and they stood swaying gently, still holding hands. A flinch of pain crossed Lister's features and Rimmer cursed himself. "You need the doctor. I'll get my clothes on…" 

Lister's hand squeezed his, halting his words. Rimmer started breathing heavily as Lister stepped closer, pulling their joined hands behind his back and placing Rimmer's hand on his overly warm arse. A look of serenity accompanied the faint hiss from between his teeth, then Lister's eyes closed. 

Whether it was instinct or the look on Lister's face, Rimmer slid his free hand over Lister's hip to curve around the other warm cheek, watching his expression intently as he slowly brought their hips together. His groan was drown out by Lister's cry and the quick thrust of his hips. 

Lost to the wild abandon in Lister's expression, Rimmer tentatively rolled his hips, drawing a sharp gasp from the parted lips. His forehead dropped to Lister's shoulder, feeling like he was ready to jump out of his skin. His fingers flexed on Lister's arse, drawing out another groan that reverberated in his ear. He turned his head and nuzzled at the closest spot of skin, just below Lister's ear. It smelled sweet so he licked that little patch of skin, barely able to hold onto Lister as he climaxed without warning. Ignoring the hands gripping his upper arms too tight, Rimmer drank in the sight of Lister lost to ecstasy.

As Lister slumped in his arms, obviously spent, he helped him onto the bed and knelt by his side, smoothing his hand over the sweaty forehead. Lister's chest was still heaving as he gulped in air, his eyes finally opening to stare up at him. "How did you know?" 

His brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Know what?" 

Lister studied him, but shook his head when he didn't find whatever it was that he'd been looking for. 

Rimmer started as a hand stroked up his thigh, his hand involuntarily tightening in Lister's hair as a hand cupped his balls and squeezed just hard enough to feel good. "Ohsmeg," he breathed, his body leaning over Lister's as he lost the coherency to make his muscles obey him. He sighed in relief as he was pulled across Lister's body to lie flat on his back, which turned into a deep moan as Lister rolled on top of him. His hands automatically rested on Lister's hips, holding him steady as Lister leaned down to kiss him. 

Only Lister didn't kiss; he made love with his mouth, flicking little licks to entice, sucking to draw out moans, nibbling to set you on edge, then all-consuming fire as he settled in for the duration. Rimmer couldn't get enough, holding onto Lister tighter whenever he tried to pull away. 

When the firm hand encircled his erection, he arched off the bed, nearly dislodging his human blanket. He stared blankly; wildly, as Lister urged him to lift his arse, removing his boxers and placing a pillow beneath his hips. His knees were bent and his feet planted on the bed with his legs slightly apart, but he kept his focus on Lister's eyes. They were hungry, determined and nothing but black pupils as desire overtook him again. 

He nearly forgot how to breathe as Lister crawled between his legs and up his chest, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. Then another to his clavicle. Small little nips and licks all across his neck and chest, and all Rimmer could do was fist the sheets and whimper as it built up in him. 

He vibrated with need as Lister went lower, dipping that wicked tongue into his belly button. He had never forgotten the feel of Lister's mouth sucking him, but the anticipation of a repeat performance was making his heart beat staccato and he feared he would pass out. Sweat stung his eyes and his heels dug into the bed as he angled his hips where he wanted Lister the most. 

A hand pressed firmly on his abdomen, holding him down as Lister smiled at him, his lips still swollen from kissing. His chin was tapping the head of his erection and Rimmer couldn't help the small thrust his hips attempted to make. Lister's hold was firm, though, and he stayed exactly where he was. The smile widened and then Rimmer abandoned rational thought as Lister took him in his mouth, hitting the back of his throat and continuing down until his nose pressed against his pubic bone. 

Rimmer sucked in a breath, then another, greedy for the air his lungs had forgotten he needed. He cried out as Lister pulled off of him then sucked back down, sticking his tongue out to wiggle against his testicles. He heard the sheets tear as he squirmed, trying to thrust but Lister was stronger than he looked and held him in place. 

The next time Lister wrapped his lips around his cock head, he slid down agonizingly slow, so slow that Rimmer had to lean up to watch. His legs started to shake with the effort of holding them upright so he let them fall to the sides, giving Lister more room and himself a better view. With his cheeks sucked in and his mouth stretched wide, Lister looked like every fantasy he never knew he had. 

Rimmer let his head fall back when his neck could no longer support it, all his energy focused on not coming just yet. He needed this to last him a lifetime and he intended to live a very, very long time. He felt tears sliding into his hair as the pleasure kept climbing, unable to fathom why he hadn't passed out or simply died. 

He choked as something slick pressed into his arsehole, but he didn't get time to wonder or protest before it brushed against something inside him. His muscles seized and he screamed as he lit up like a firecracker, every nerve ending tingling. His groans felt like they originated near his toes as whatever it was touched again and third time, all the while Lister's mouth kept him on edge. "Please," he begged, not knowing if he was asking for release or for it never to end. Lister pulled off and blew across the tip of his cock, the air shocking against his wet skin. "Shit!" 

His arsehole was abandoned as Lister crawled over him, pressing his tongue deep into his mouth. Rimmer sucked at it greedily, dragging the remnants of the sheets tangled in his hands over Lister's back as he wrapped his arms around the sensually moving body. 

He felt the disorientation of rolling over; felt the press of Lister's erection against his own as Lister's heels dug into his lower back urging him closer. He didn't understand until Lister's slick hand stroked him, then guided him to the little puckered hole and pressed the tip inside. 

He held himself still except for the trembling of his muscles. His head was bowed, unable to look away from his cock joined with Lister in the most intimate way. He felt himself being pulled inside as Lister rolled his hips and he couldn't make himself hold back. He watched as he stopped part-way in, then he nudged himself forward, his eyes closing at hearing Lister's deep groan. Heels on his arse forced him deeper, Lister's still-slick hands clawing at his shoulders and back as he moved like a wild thing beneath him. 

He snapped his hips forward, cutting off Lister's moan on a choking sound. Something dark and primitive rose up inside him, no longer frightening. He braced his elbows on the bed and began to pound into Lister's arse, watching as need and desperation twisted his features. 

He changed the angle of his entry to capture the swollen lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing the scream Lister made as he sank even deeper inside his arse. When Lister began to gasp for air, he dropped his mouth to the nearest bit of skin and sucked hard. The pain from the fingernails digging into his shoulders released something inside him and with a cry of denial, the intense orgasm swept through him, blinding him to everything except the colors swirling in the blackness at the edge of his vision. 

He was still groaning softly when he became aware again, a dead weight over Lister's smothered body. He pushed himself upward, feeling their skin stick together from sweat and other bodily fluids. Seeing Lister's unmoving body, guilt began to gnaw at his gut. "Lister?" 

Eyes soft with gratitude and bone-deep satisfaction fluttered open, seeking and locking on his. "Thank you," was murmured before Lister pulled him down for a kiss, this one having an entirely different feel than the ones they'd just shared. 

It took a moment, but Rimmer placed the feeling and had to blink back tears: it was goodbye. Lister had done his atonement, Rimmer had gotten his dark fantasy realized; there was nothing more to say. When he tried to roll away, Lister pulled him back into another kiss. 

"Stay with me," was murmured against his lips as a leg hooked over the backs of his knees. "Stay the night with me." 

It took willpower he didn't know he had, but he gently removed Lister's arms from around his neck and placed them next to his dreads fanned out on the bed. He didn’t dare entertain the idea, no matter how much it hurt to distance himself. Lister needed more than he could offer, both physically and emotionally, and he was needed elsewhere. "I can't and you know why," he forestalled the protests he knew would be voiced. He stole one last kiss, tainted with the taste of his own tears, then quickly rolled out of bed. 

Sore muscles screamed at him but he had to leave _now_ or he never would. He located his boxers and forced his rubbery legs into them. He retrieved the remote from the table and reformed his clothes, sparing a quick glance back at Lister stretched out on the bed, already contentedly asleep. 

His heart lurched and caught in his throat, but he made himself turn and walk out the door, stumbling his way blindly to the Medibay. He'd originally planned to leave in two days' time, but he couldn't stay on the ship. Not now. Swallowing around a throat tight with grief, he pulled open the bedside drawer and pulled out the flight suit and the wig. He stole into the shower area and dressed in the silvery suit quickly, but his trembling hands had trouble with the wig. 

He glanced around the Medibay, his temporary home for the past two months. His gaze landed on the portable console and strode over to it, sitting down and activating the record mode. He knew there were tears in his eyes, but they were the only indication that he wasn't Ace Rimmer. "You made me a better person, David Lister. By your example, you showed me the true definition of a hero." 

No fanfare. No parade. Nobody to see him off. It was as it should be. He climbed into the cockpit and booted up the computer, laughing mournfully as her purring voice greeted him. He pressed the engine start button and waited for the engines to warm up. 

"Are you sure you're ready to leave, Ace?" her surprisingly gentle voice asked him. 

His long fingers wrapped around the handles on the yoke, his grip on it confident and easy. "I've been derelict in my duties. It's time I got back out there and did some good." He entered the sequence to open the bay doors, exposing the far-off worlds twinkling in the inky black sky, waiting for him. He eased the ship out of the bay doors, then entered the sequence to close them again. Once they were secure, he engaged the dimension jump drive. Before the ship took him out of the dimension, he sent one last thought back to the sleeping man he'd left:

 _Have a good life, Lister_.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story ended up taking over my life so much that I had to leave it for almost 5 months to emotionally recover. I have over 278,000 words (600 pages) of cut or rewritten scenes, plus additional research notes. It was an emotional release to type "the end" on this, so I appreciate that it took longer than I anticipated to finish and I thank you for hanging in there.


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